


Take Me To Badlands

by helloimtired



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Newt, Cuz I don't want to spoil anything, Drugs, Famous Minho, Famous Thomas, Fluff, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, M/M, Newt is a Dork, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Minewt, Past Relationship(s), Scientist Newt, Slow Build, Thomas/Newt/Minho - Freeform, Thominewt, Virgin Newt, molecular biologist Newt, newtmas - Freeform, skins - Freeform, this is gonna be long, top Thomas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5243003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloimtired/pseuds/helloimtired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The thing about Thomas and I is that we were a huge cliché…”</p><p> </p><p>"But we fucking loved it anyway."</p><p> </p><p>Thomas has it all. The 22 year old actor – slash – model – slash – singer has more fame than any normal 22 year old can imagine. He’s been in the industry since he can speak. His flawless smile is plastered on every high-end and teen magazine in America. Directors would desperately plea for Thomas to read one of their screenplays. Girls – also a few boys – would sell their souls for a taste of Thomas O’Brien. </p><p>That is until he met a quirky little biochemist named Newt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Americana

**CHAPTER 1 – NEW AMERICANA**

           Thomas has it all. The 22 year old actor – slash – model – slash – singer has more fame than any normal 22 year old can imagine. He’s been in the industry since he can speak. His flawless smile is plastered on every high-end and teen magazine in America. Directors would desperately plea for Thomas to read one of their screenplays. Girls – also a few boys – would sell their souls for a taste of Thomas O’Brien.

           Of course, a person with that much fame has a few rumors here and there; and Thomas is no stranger to that.  With his Greek-god like features, it’s no wonder that he has a new girl on his arm every month. His charisma and charm also garnered him a star-studded group of friends. Because of his grand reputation, the paparazzi can’t help but follow him anywhere, all of them desperate to know his whereabouts and affiliations. Articles about him range from his partying and drug use to who is dating. The readers can’t help but eat up every article and stay curious.

           The populace would think that with this kind of lifestyle, Thomas would be content.

           Well, he is not.

           Thus, his story will start here.

…

 

               “ _After the break, we will be interviewing a special guest....”_

                 Thomas could faintly hear Ellen DeGeneres’s voice from the back stage’s flat screen. Thomas was about to be interviewed by Ellen in a few minutes and that was the reason why everyone back stage is hectic as hell. He was surrounded by 3 –perhaps even more—stylists, making sure that his Gucci Stretch Twill Jacket made him look dashing. A few Makeup artists were retouching his face, making sure to emphasize his notable features.

                 With only a few minutes left till his interview, the technical team of the show hooked him up to his microphone.

                  Interviews no longer faze Thomas; this was something he was very used to. Despite only having a few moments left till he shows up on national television, the young actor shows no signs of nervousness. His first interview was when he was 7 years old – also by Ellen. It is very reasonable for a seasoned professional like him to be calm at a time like this. So while waiting, he chats Ellen a little, updating each other on their projects.

             “I’ll see you in a bit Thomas; I look forward to interviewing you again,” Ellen said before heading towards the studio. The technical crew began the countdown till the show is back on. Thomas’ manager – Clark – gave him a few pats before he said his go-to motivation.

_5…_

_4…_

_3…_

_2…_

_1…_

“Go get ‘em, superstar.”

 

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that.

…

   ”Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome my next guest – Thomas O’ Brien!” That was his cue.

 

              The crowd went wild when Thomas walked out of the backstage. He smiles and waves at the crowd, instantly they fall into his spell. Every single member of the audience gave him googly eyes – even the males whose wives are with them. After exchanging a few hugs and pleasantries with Ellen, he sat down on the couch opposite to the host.

 

             “Wow, Thomas! It’s great to see you again. Look at you,” and so it starts. They spent over 5 minutes on pleasantries – which Thomas did not come for. You see, his management team decided to arrange an interview for him to announce his latest project; in order to build up some hype. So he decided to play along till they would start talking about that.

 

              “I’d like to congratulate you on your success on the Maze Runner! You hacked a lot of awards during that year.”

 

              “Thanks Ellen, it was a great pleasure to work with a bunch of great people and I could’ve done it without them,” his baritone voice resonated throughout the entire studio. Of course, this line was very much rehearsed.

            

               After minutes talking about what he’s been doing for the past few months – like his hook ups, Instagram posts and what not – they decided to get to the good bits.

 

                “So for the past few months, I heard that you are up to something new, isn’t it?” _Oh boy here it is_ – he said to himself. It was finally time to say what his PR manager had drilled into his head four hours ago.

 

                “Yes, Ellen. We’re working on a new version of Skins, in the UK.”

 

                 After their huge success with the Maze Runner Trilogy, a production team from the UK called them up.  By ‘them’ meaning him and his good Korean friend, Min Ho Lee. They wanted to create a new version of UK Skins, featuring an American bloke. Despite having to travel to the other side of the world for filming, he immediately said yes to the project; seeing as it was his favorite show during his high school years – and it was a great opportunity to open up his fanbase some more.

 

                 The crowd was ecstatic with the announcement. They were clearly getting the reaction they desired. He glanced to the side of the stage, Clark was there giving him two thumbs up.

 

                 “So tell us, is this going to follow up the original Skins storyline or are we going to expect something new?” Ellen questioned. She leaned on to the couch’s arm rest, giving him a questioning look. Thomas cleared his throat before giving everyone a clear answer.

 

                 “Um, it is definitely something new. This time it features an American kid—which is me,” his manager told him to keep explanations brief so that people will want to see more of it.  He grins to the audience to add an effect to it.

 

                  “Oh my how exciting, so you’re going to be working with Minho again, correct?” Of course, Minho was brought into the light. Thomas and Minho has been very good friends ever since the Maze Runner. He’s a pretty cool guy, considering that he throws the best parties ever. Besides, Minho’s party is where he meets his bed buddies.

 

                 “Oh yeah, it’s actually pretty cool to work with him again.” _God, can’t we finish up already?_

 

                 “So before we end this segment,” _finally…_ “… Why don’t you promote your new project to all our viewers?” Ellen flashed him a smile as a signal to say ‘go on’. He turned his body sideways to face the audience and flashed a killer smile. He could see the audience melt under his gaze.

 

                  He took a deep breath and then spoke, “I’d like to invite everyone to keep an eye out for the new version of UK Skins. It’s coming out next year on November.”

 

                   _Finally, it’s over_

…

                After the interview, Thomas went home to his upscale penthouse apartment in LA. He scanned his apartment’s card key and opened the door. His modern-style bachelor pad was immaculate, looks like his new maid is doing a very good job.

 

                 Thomas sauntered to his white couch, which was opposite to his TV and fireplace. He simply plopped on to the couch’s soft leather surface then releasing a sigh. The young star thought of a million ways to spend his Friday night.

 

                _Should I just watch Netflix? Call someone over? Maybe just browse the internet or shit like that?_

                  Suddenly, his ring tone cut off his train of thought. Thomas reached into the right pocket of his tight trousers, fishing for his phone. Once his fingers registered the smooth, cold, surface of the phone’s screen, he pulled it out.

 

                  Minho’s number and picture was flashing on the screen of his iPhone 6s. He couldn’t help but smirk at his friend’s antics. He already knows why he’s calling, so he tapped the green button and placed the phone to his ear.

 

                  _“Hey greenie, wanna come over? My place, in 20,”_ At least, that was what he thinks Minho said. The Korean star was shouting; the loud EDM song at the background caused him to do so. Alas, his guess was right. Minho is throwing a smashing party, and he’s pretty sure that he’s going to invite him.

 

                  “Yeah, I’ll be there in 20. Any good catch around there?” Well, Thomas does have his urges – even though he indulges in them quite frequently.

 

                   “ _Well if you’re looking for a bang, Kendall J is here. Why not,”_ That was all Thomas needed to hear. He’s been trying to crack the reality star for days. Luckily for him, no one was able to resist him before. He stood up from the couch and marched to his bedroom. The 22 year old opened his closet and scanned for a much more comfortable outfit. He grabbed his black and blue YSL plaid and a pair of tight black jeans. He topped it all off with black sneakers.

 

                  _“I’m on my way.”_ He grabbed his Porsche keys and took off.

 

 

                   Minho’s not-so-modest abode was brimming with people. Celebrities from all parts of the media were getting high, drunk, making out, or all of the above. A rush of excitement flooded his system. He jogged towards the door and –being the gentleman he is – knocked. With only a second delay, the door opened; revealing a very drunk Minho.

 

                   “Heyyyy thereee,” Yes, this is definitely a drunken Minho. After engaging into a ‘bro hug’, the Korean stepped aside to let him in. The moment he entered, all he can see was bodies grinding against each other while dancing to the Chainsmokers. He couldn’t help but smile, this party was _lit._

                    Once he entered the party, some acquaintances came up to him. He bro-hugged some acquaintances whilst heading towards the living room – where the party is at. Thomas couldn’t help but feel good. He can feel their eyes on him; he can hear their whispers about him. Minho was busy talking to him, so they paid them no mind. As he passed by, the sea of people parted like he was Moses. The famous lad did not need to excuse himself and slither among the crowd. 

 

                      After Thomas and Minho settled on the couch, all it took was one bottle and a quick snort. _The party has started._

_…_

 

                      _I’m on a fucking cloud_

 

                      Thomas was on the dance floor, with his current conquest, Kendall, on his junk – grinding. They were both sweating; clothes were clinging to their skins. Coke and alcohol fueled their systems. He looked to the couch and saw Minho – smirking like the little shit he is – raising a bottle to him. Thomas replied with a sly smirk before grasping Kendall’s hips tighter. She looked smashing on her LBD; it made him think a few inappropriate things.

 

                      He leaned into her ear and questioned, “Hey, how ‘bout you get us a few drinks and make out on the couch?” Kendall couldn’t help but melt at his husky voice and hot breath against her ear. She immediately removed herself from his crotch and walked towards the bar. Thomas then made his way to where his friend was seated. 

 

                     Minho was currently making out with one of his co-stars—a dude – which was on his lap. The bloke had blonde hair, brown eyes, and a fantastic body; just the way the he likes it. It didn’t bother Thomas that his friend was swinging for both teams. In fact, he thinks that Minho is quite lucky that he gets more ass than he does.

 

                     Thomas sat next to Minho while Kendall decided to settle herself on his lap. She handed him his drink while taking a swig on hers—he did the same afterwards. He gave his killer smile as a thank you to her before glancing at Minho’s direction. It looks like they weren’t going to stop anytime soon because they both started grinding on each other.

 

                    “So Minho, I hope you’re aware that his face is about to come off due to your sucking?” Finally, the two had broken apart after Thomas released a snarky statement. Minho and what’s-his-name was breathless, he was quick to assume that they’ve been making out for a long time.

 

                    “Shut up O’Brien, I’m pretty sure you two won’t be sleeping tonight,” Minho replied to his snarky statement. The four of them laughed, because they know it’s true. Thomas didn’t miss the fact that his best friend’s hand remained on the stranger’s bum.

 

                     “Oh let me introduce you to my friend here! His name is Keith,” Finally, Minho decided to introduce him. Keith reached out his hand and Thomas shook it. This Keith fellow was good looking – no homo though. He wasn’t surprised that Minho took an interest to him, seeing that he has blonde hair and brown eyes. He remembered that his Korean co-star had this weird fetish for people with those features; he never really got to ask him about it.

 

                    “Hey Keith, I’m Thomas.”

…

                      “I have twelve days left till I go back to that hellhole I call home,” Minho muttered. The four of them have been talking and drinking for 30 minutes. It must be the beer, but they acted like four childhood friends.

 

                       Thomas raised his eyebrow as if questioning Minho about what he just said. Minho released a sigh before taking a big swig. _What’s up with twelve days?_ Without having to beat around the bushes, he decided to ask instead.

 

                       “I don’t get it, what’s up with twelve days?” Now Kendall and what’s-his-name ( _oh shit I forgot)_ was curious. Instead of getting a proper reply, Minho guffawed _literally._ If Thomas wasn’t drunk and Kendall wasn’t on his laugh, he might’ve punched Minho on the shoulder. He then followed up with, “Dammit Minho, I’m serious you shuckface.”

 

                       Finally, after he got it out of his system. He looked at Thomas with a sly grin and spoke. “You idiot, we leave for the UK in twelve days; remember?” A blast of reality crashed onto Thomas. His entire body jerked just remembering about their project. But one thing caught his interest, why the hell did Minho say _home_?

 

                      A jolt of realization hit him. Minho was originally _from_ the UK! He felt slightly ashamed since he forgot something very important about his friend. It was hard to believe at first. Back then when he was a _greenie_ (aka newbie), he thought Minho was born and raised in LA – despite having Korean parents. He was just so knowledgeable about everything, like he was raised in LA.  Thomas only found out recently when one of the interviewers asked him if he had plans going back to the UK. His best friend then later explains that he used to live there when he was a kid. His parents were some sort of scientists that why they moved a lot, but they stayed in England the longest – primary to college(ish) actually. He left his family behind in order to pursue his dreams in Hollywood.

 

                 “Thomas, you shuckface, are you even listening to me?” His train of thought was cut off by Minho. Kendall and Keith _(finally I remember)_ looked at him as if he was possessed. He looked at his surroundings then apologized for spacing out.

 

                “Anyway, I was telling you about this place where we can stay while we’re filming,” Minho repeated. Since they will be staying in another country for roughly a year and a half, the two of them needed a place to stay. Their management team told them to look for an ad for months ago, but they never got around it; just thinking about paperwork, leasing, and renting made Thomas cringe.

 

                 “That’s cool where’d you find one?” He was almost out of beer – he takes note. Thomas again asks Kendall to get some more, seeing that she is completely under his spell. She hopped off his lap and proceeded to the bar.

 

                  “I have a friend who owns this huge ass apartment in Notting Hill,” Minho stated, “… I already called him about it.”

 

                  “Well, I guess we’re set. I can’t wait to meet him,” Thomas raised his Stella Artois in the air, signaling for a toast.

 

                  “Cheers,” Minho muttered before bumping their bottles together. Then they both proceeded to chug down their beer and party some more.

 

                  It didn’t faze Thomas that he has 12 days left before he leaves. Why should he? Everybody knows him. He will never feel like an outsider. He feared no city, he feared no man. With one last snort, he let himself go.

 

 

                   _This is my life, and I fucking hate it._

_…_

                    It’s 1am and the plane ride was silent. Thomas looked to his left and saw Minho, sleeping in his own cabin. The sight of his friend sleeping wasn’t surprising, _lucky bastard –_ Thomas murmured. This is the first time he’s ever flown this far. He glanced at the screen in front of him and sighed. The duration of their flight would be 8 hours and Minho gets to sleep through it.

 

                    Seeing that he has nothing else to do for eight more hours, he brought out his MacBook. He logged on into his computer and immediately connected to the plane’s wifi. Thomas opened Netflix and entered his account.

 

                   After a few episodes in American Horror Story, he fell asleep. By the time he wakes up, they’ll be in London; where a certain stranger is preparing for their arrival.

                  

 

                 

                 

 

 

 


	2. The City's Ours Until the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Minho take over London by storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm back with an update! 
> 
> I'd like to start off by saying thank you for all your positive feedback. They made me gush and I'm really happy that there are people who like it so far. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the new chapter, hopefully I won't be too busy to update soon. I know that there were some of you who are very excited for Newt's appearance, but I'd like to keep you guys on your toes and expect the unexpected. :) 
> 
> Leave a comment and kudos this if you have the time! I really like reading what you guys have to say because it gives me guidance when a write an update. 
> 
> Till the next one,  
> helloimtired

     

 

**CHAPTER 2 - The City's Ours Until the Fall**

 

         Thomas woke up at 6:30 am. A harsh beam of sunlight found its way to his face, causing his eyes to flutter themselves open. He looked around the plane, his brown eyes were slowly getting used to the surroundings. Thomas peered outside the window, all he could see was endless blue and clouds. He released a yawn whilst stretching his muscles.

 

        “Fuck,” he uttered out. Despite sitting on first class, long flights were never pleasant for Thomas. His legs were just begging to be stretched. The time – 6:40 – flashed on the screen opposite to him, just about a few hours left of their flight. Thomas ran his fingers through his hair before releasing another exhausted sigh.

 

_I can’t wait to get out of this shuckin aircraft._

 

 

        He thought about maybe telling the manager to sue the airline – for being too uncomfortable – or maybe just getting a private jet next time.

 

        Before Thomas could proceed to anymore ideas that wouldn’t help speed up the flight, Minho called out.

 

       “Good morning, slinthead,” Thomas looked to his left and saw Minho, grinning like it was Christmas morning. He nonchalantly gave him a ‘good morning back’. A stewardess then came out of the cabin; she announced that it was time for breakfast.

 

       “God, airline food is a pile of shit,” he complained. He heard a chuckle from his best friend as a response. Well, Thomas knew at the back of his mind that airline food will always suck. When you’re up in the air, your senses go haywire and your tongue won’t be able to detect some flavors. He pulled out the menu from the seat’s compartment and browsed the breakfast section.

 

        “Well, food in England is gonna be worse.” Minho then told him about a friend who first tasted Haggis– a ‘pudding’ made from sheep innards – for the first time and how he puked after taking a spoonful. He couldn’t help but squirm each time his friend describes what’s in the food he’s talking about.

 

       “Shut your trap, Minho. You want me to puke on your face?” He decided to ignore the buff Asian; his stomach couldn’t handle it anymore. The FAs were making their way down the aisles, taking everybody’s order. He scanned the menu for anything appetizing. Now he was torn between a grilled chicken Panini and a stack of pancakes.

 

       “Geez, calm down Thomas; no need to go preggo lady on me.”

 

       He was about to consult Minho – despite their disgusting food conversation earlier – on which one he should pick. Unfortunately, he was busy whispering things into a flight attendant’s ear. The woman was blonde, blue eyes, and has a pretty tight body. Minho spared him a glance and Thomas gave him a thumbs-up.

 

     “Um Sir,” a voice resonated from the right. He repositioned himself to face another flight attendant who was patiently waiting for his order. Thomas sighed, he should’ve decided by now if it wasn’t from Minho. The brown-haired actor decided to go on a limb and choose the Panini.

 

     “I’m sorry. I guess I’ll have the Panini and some orange juice to go with that,” he told her. Thomas didn’t bother looking at her; he wasn’t on planning to join the mile high club today. He can, but he’s just too lazy. Besides, he prefers to do in on a bed (as much as possible) and not a thousand miles above ground.

      Thomas suddenly felt a buzz from his right pocket. He quickly pulled out his phone and unlocked it.

     It was a message from Minho.

     He looked back at his best friend and saw him walking towards the lavatory. “What the fuck,” he murmured. He looked down on his phone and chuckled.

 

_Guess who’s joining the Mile High Club?_

     “Lucky bastard.”

…

     Finally, they arrived at Heathrow. Eight hours of pure torture was finally over. Everybody was exiting the fuselage and retrieving their bags from the over head compartment. Thomas decided to wait it out and his friend hasn’t even come out of that lavatory yet.

 

     After three more minutes of waiting, Minho finally came out. His hair – usually gelled up to perfection – was disheveled, some of his buttons were in the wrong hole, and his clothes clung to his skin due to his sweat. He looked around, in search for his friend, and rushed to his side. Minho grabbed Thomas by the bicep and quietly instructed him.

 

     “Let’s leave. NOW,” Without another word, Thomas quickly got up from his seat (which probably had his butt print) and retrieved his bag from the overhead compartment. Minho did the same. The two rushed towards the exit, but before they can step foot outside, the blonde stewardess reached out for Minho’s buff arms and grabbed it.

 

     “Call me,” then she slipped a piece of paper into his pants. She didn’t hesitate rubbing his groin while she was at it. Minho gave her a peeved smile then quickly walked—Thomas was trailing him from behind. It didn’t take long for him to catch up to Minho – who was ripping the small piece of paper.  

 

     “What the hell happened back there?” Thomas would feel pity for Minho for having a bad screw, but this was just too funny. Minho glared at him and breathed in and out.  He took a   moment to compose himself.

 

     “Yeah she was pretty,” Minho breathed out, “but she was horrible.” Minho then proceeded to describe the horrible blowjob he received and how she almost squirted on his baby blue striped button-down shirt from Gucci. Thomas released a loud laugh. Minho was so smug about getting with her too – that was what made Thomas crack up.

 

     “It was like fucking a squeaky toy, Thomas! Her moans were annoying,” Thomas quickly recalled that this was Minho’s biggest sex pet peeve; which was next to partners sucking on his neck as if they were Dracula (which she also did).   

 

     “Can’t believe you were excited about her too,” Thomas said (while laughing, of course). If looks could kill, Thomas’s blood would be all over the walls. Minho gave him a good punch to the gut. Thomas then grunted as a response.

 

 

     “Slim it, greenie.”

 

…

     Minho and Thomas released a sigh of relief as they boarded the Escalade.

 

     As soon as they were out of the jet bridge, they greeted by screams and endless flashes. Bodyguards immediately accompanied the two as they walked towards the vehicle. Thomas wasn’t exactly surprised that there would be fans waiting for them by the airport, but the sheer amount of them gave him chills. The both of them decided to make their fans happy and greet some of them.

     After five minutes of selfies, autographs, and short conversations, they finally made to the sleek SUV. Thomas removed his grey and maroon letterman hoodie. Entertaining British girls made him break a little sweat.

 

     “God, Brits are just the wildest.” Minho ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Thomas. Thomas could read the double meaning on that. They both decided to just settle down and relax. They were on their way to the agency, their manager wanted to meet with them first.

     Thomas looked outside and observed Greater London. It reminded him a little of America at the same time it was different. He couldn’t quite grasp the idea that he was currently in England. He felt a surge of excitement that he didn’t expect to feel. A few weeks ago, this UK trip was nothing but a job to him – something that he couldn’t wait but finish. Now, the UK seems promising to him.

 

 

     It seems _life changing._

…

 

 

     “Welcome to England, boys!”

 

     A smiling Clark entered the modern-looking conference room—wearing a suit. He arrived in England way earlier than the two boys (straight after the Ellen interview). He’s been making sure that everything, regarding the production, went smoothly.

     The two of them have been waiting inside the conference room for five minutes. Thomas can already feel the fatigue that the jet lag brought. So he greeted Clark with a sheepish smile before resting his head on his propped elbow. He could hear Minho uttering prayers to God, hoping that this meeting wouldn’t take long.

 

     “Yeah hi there, now why are we here?” Thomas couldn’t be bothered about his ill-mannered tone. He could see the irritation across his manager’s face but the man managed to retain his smile. Clark sat on the plush office chair adjacent to his charges.

 

     “Now now, I know you both are tired…” they both didn’t hesitate to give Clark the ‘no shit, Sherlock’ eyes, “… but the heads of WICKED wanted to see you two as soon as possible.” Now it was Clark’s turn to give them the ‘you two better get your shit together’ look.

     Immediately after hearing what their manager just said, their eyes widened. Thomas lifted his face and sat up straight. Meanwhile, Minho was busy fixing his disheveled appearance—putting his buttons in the right hole, retouching his tall quiff, and attempting to straighten out any wrinkles on his shirt.

     WICKED Productions was one of the largest entertainment companies in the world.  Their movies were always nominated for awards. You could also say the same for their TV shows and music. Doing a project with the billion dollar company would be a huge privilege and would look really good on anyone’s resume.

 

     “Make sure to give them a good impression; you two are –“

     Before Clark could give them another lecture about behaving around their bosses, the conference room’s door opened. Two executives – a woman and a man – walked into the room. Judging by her looks the woman must be around her sixties. Her pale complexion made her look like a ghost and her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Thomas met her eyes and saw they were very blue. She was wearing a gray blazer over her white button up and a gray pencil skirt.

     The man beside her was tall. He also looks like he’s roughly in his sixties (due to his graying hair). Thomas noted that man has a mole on his cheek. For some reason, he face reminds him of a rat.

     The two newcomers had this aura that oozes authority. They both took a seat opposite to the three other occupants of the room.

 

     “Hello, how are you?” the woman greeted with a smile. “My name is Ava Paige, nice to meet you,” she extended her pale hand towards Thomas. He reciprocated the gesture and shook it – internally he prayed that his hand wasn’t sweating. The woman made him nervous for some reason.

 

     “Nice to meet you, I’m Thomas.” Ava gave him a gentle smile after he introduced himself before moving on to Minho. He looked at Minho and saw that his friend felt the same.  Minho was a smooth talker, but this was one of those few moments that he had to swallow down the lump forming down his throat.

 

     “I’m Minho, what a pleasure to meet you.” He didn’t exactly know if Minho was being cheeky when he said pleasure, but the Korean had a sheepish smile on his face.

 

     “This is my assistant, Janson,” she gestured to the man beside her. Thomas gave him a casual wave whilst Minho simply gave him a nod. _Ratman_ – Thomas thought – didn’t greet them or anything, he remained silent. The tension in the room was so thick; you can probably cut it with a butter knife.

 

     “Anyway, I don’t want to impose on you two gentlemen, seeing that you two had just arrived.” Thomas had a sense that maybe she wasn’t one of those impatient corporate pricks. Perhaps he was just too tired and nervous to care.

 

 

     “Alright, down to business.”

 

 

…

 

_“That’s all we’re going to cover today. We’ll just have Clark send you the details regarding next week’s agenda.”_

 

 

     They were finally out of the building after two hours. Thomas and Minho made their way to the vehicle and jumped in. A sigh of relief both came out from them; surely they’ve been holding it in during the meeting.

 

     “Where off to, boys?” the bald burly driver with a very thick accent asked them. Minho leaned forward from his seat and told the driver, “Alexander Street W2 down in Notting Hill, mate.” Thomas wasn’t sure if he’s imagining it or not, but Minho spoke with an accent. The driver gave him a nod then the engines came to life.

 

     Minho sat back on the leather seats and released a grunt. “The lady earlier almost made me piss myself,” his friend looked to him wearing a very distressed expression. Thomas snickered at him and replied which was followed up by Minho punching him on the shoulder.

 

      “Who knew Minho, aka Mr. Smooth as a Baby’s Butt, can be intimated by an old lady,” then a laughed out loud some more. Minho gave him more hits to the shoulder. Being punched by Minho is no joke; his impressive looking arms supported this claim. They bantered some more after that before relaxing once again.

 

     “So, tell me something about this house,” Thomas asked. Minho never showed him any pictures or even described to him what this house looks like. The only thing he knows about it is that it the owner is a close friend of Minho; and that he used to stay there before going to Los Angeles. He’s been always meaning to ask his friend about it, but I guess he never got around it.

 

     “Well, it’s pretty pricey – I’ll tell you that.” Minho gave him a brief answer, which didn’t satisfy his curiosity, Thomas tried asking more questions to pry off more answers but Minho didn’t give him the satisfaction. “Relax buddy, we’ll get there soon.” That was Minho’s final reply before taking a short nap.

 

     Thomas pulled out his phone from his pocket and unlocked it. Since Minho isn’t awake to answer all his questions, he sought out an alternative – the internet. He tapped on Safari and typed out his search entry.

 

_Notting Hill_

 

 

     Under a short amount of time, millions of results popped up from his search. He decided to go with Wikipedia so he chose the link. After a minute of skimming and pertaining to certain details, Thomas’s eyebrows perked up.

     It turns out that Notting Hill was one of the most expensive postcodes in England. So many big names live in the area. He couldn’t help but wonder what if Stella McCartney or Kate Moss happens to be their neighbor. _‘That’d be pretty cool,’_ Thomas thought to himself.

     Thomas couldn’t suppress the small smile on his lips after finally satisfying his curiosity. He tucked the phone back in his pocket and decided to follow Minho’s ways and take a nap. He grabbed the neck pillow – which was inserted in the front seat’s sleeve – and let his tired eyes take him away.

 

 

…

 

 

     “Hey O’Brien, you slinthead, wake up.” Thomas could hear a distant voice calling to him. He refused to open his eyes; the whole trip really took a number on him. A pair of hands suddenly grabbed his broad shoulders and shook him violently. The voice called him out some more; he immediately recognizes it as Minho.

 

     Thomas opened his eyes, and stretched while yawning. Minho gave him a few soft hits on his cheek. “Hurry up, we’re here.” Then Minho exited the vehicle to unload his luggage. Thomas checked his watch and did some calculations; their trip took them 35 minutes from the building. He grabbed the door’s handle and hopped off the leather seats.

 

     The young actor stretched again, it felt like absolute heaven. He’s been sitting down for an entire day. He could just imagine his body thanking him for the stretch because it’s been through a lot today.

 

     He walked towards the open trunk and unloaded his own baggage – which consists of one trolley and a big Nike duffel bag. Their driver – Edgar – gave him a pat on his back before closing the Escalade’s trunk. “I left my number with the Asian kid, just in case you guys need me,” Edgar then went inside back the vehicle and drove away.

     The house looked amazing. It’s looked was quite modern, especially the windows. He didn’t waste another second and approached the steps leading to the door – without opening the small black gate first, of course. He was really impressed by the house’s minimalist charm. Thomas grabbed for the large, vertical, steel door handle and pushed the door. The door made a sound but it refused to open.

 

     “Shit, locked.” He muttered. Did Minho lock him out or something? He looked around for his friend and found him on standing near the curb. Minho was on the phone and he looked impatient. The Korean chewed on his thumb whilst nervously shifting his weight from one leg to another.  Seeing that they might not be able to enter the house for a while, Thomas parked his trolley to the side with his duffel bag beside it.

 

     “Fuck.” Just before he was about to meet up with his friend, Minho dropped the call. His friend marched up the steps and paced back and forth. An expression of annoyance was all over Minho’s face.

 

     “What the hell is going on?” Thomas expressed his concern. It was getting a little hot so he took off the snapback he’s been wearing the whole day. He fanned himself with it while watching Minho bite down his fist and freak out.

 

     “Newt’s not home and he’s not answering my calls.” Thomas released a sarcastic laugh. All he wanted to do was take a rest after today’s agenda, is that too much to ask for? He ran his fingers through his chestnut brown hair and sighed out loud.

 

     “Do you have any idea what time he’ll be back?” Minho noticed the hopeful look Thomas gave him. Minho could only scratch his head. He too wanted to rest so badly.

 

     “He’s not answering, dude. I don’t fucking know.” He inhaled deeply then exhaled. Minho went down again and walked towards the black mailbox. He shuffled through its contents.

 

     “What the hell are you doing, Mean Hoe?” Again, before he could join his friend in whatever he’s doing, Minho spoke up.

 

     “Stay there and look for a key or something.” Thomas gave him an affirmative nod before checking around his perimeters for a key.

 

     After solid five minutes of hardcore key hunting, they got nothing. They circled the entire house’s perimeter (countless of times) and still found nothing. Thomas and Minho decided to call quits, they were tired as hell. They both sat down on the steps; beaten, tired, and hopeless. Thomas looked up to the sky and noticed that the sun was about to set. A deep chuckle slipped from his lips. Both actors were sweating profusely.

 

_This is just fucking great_

 

     They continued to rest for 2 minutes. Afterwards, they discussed how frustrating their key hunt was and the places they’ve searched.

 

     “Minho, wouldn’t it be funny if the key was just underneath the mat?” He looked to his left and was all he saw was Minho’s sharp profile. Minho pathetically sighed and contorted his body to face Thomas.

 

     “I told you, Newt isn’t an idiot. That guy can balance complex compounds under record time.” Minho then lectured to him that the guy residing in the house was a really smart cookie. He mentioned how this guy was able to floor his professors countless of times during his college years. Minho described him as a total science junkie.

 

    “Hey Minho,” Thomas hollered.

     The Korean actor stopped blabbering about the resident’s reputation.

 

     “What now, Thomas?” Minho looked back over his shoulder and faced Thomas – who was standing in the doorway.

 

     Thomas lifted the mat and picked up a tiny object – _a key._

 

 

     “NEWT, YOU BABY FACE MOTHERFUCKER!”

 

 

…

 

 

     After the whole key fiasco, they were finally able to enter the house – which was such a total bachelor’s pad. The modern interior reminded him so much of his own apartment in LA. They were supposedly going out for dinner then hit a few clubs to officially celebrate their stay. Unfortunately, they were too tired from the treasure hunt; so they decided to order pizza instead.

     After Thomas’s shower, he decided to look around the house. He made his way to the den, the biggest part of the house. An L-shaped white leather couch was facing the huge curved TV—which was in the middle of the room, above the fireplace. In the middle was a black contemporary coffee table which was littered with papers. Thomas assumed it was important so he didn’t bother checking it out.

     There were shelves on both sides, Thomas decided to inspect it. He thought that maybe it can give him a clue about whoever owns this house. It was mostly filled with books on different sciences – chemistry, biology, physics, human anatomy etc. He gave a satisfied ‘hmph’.

 

 _I guess Minho was right; this guy’s a science junkie._  

 

     After dismissing the books, he proceeded in inspecting the pictures. There were only a few frames, 4 on each side. Thomas analyzed the ones on the left side first. He reached for the first picture on the left.

     The first one on the left was a family picture. It seems to have taken place in a school graduation, the little boy – who was maybe around eleven or something-- was wearing a white and maroon toga. Both parents were beside the boy along and her sister was in the picture too.

     Right next to it was an individual picture of the little boy, who was now holding his framed diploma. Thomas can clearly read what it said. His eyes widened after analyzing the image.

 

_He graduated high school at 10 years old?!_

 

 

     Before he can snoop around some more to dig out more dirt about the owner of this house, Minho called him from upstairs.

 

     “Thomas, get your ass up here and play 2K with me!”

 

     “Just a sec,” he hollered back. Thomas placed the picture back to its original position. He jogged away from the den and climbed up the stairs. On his way to Minho’s room, his mind was filled with the little boy.

 

     Maybe he should ask Minho about it.

 

 

…

 

 

 

_MEANWHILE_

 

 

 

     “Sigh.”

     He removed his black square rimmed glasses and rubbed his face with both hands. After hours of testing and rearranging molecular structures, he just couldn’t get arrive at the conclusion. He brought the sleeves of his navy blue sweater to his face to rub the tears (due to fatigue) forming in brown eyes.

     “Burning the midnight oil again, Sangster?” An old man – wearing a white button up and khakis underneath his lab coat – approached him. The man gave a few pats on his shoulder which prompted him to wear his glasses and acknowledge his mentor/ boss.

     “Yes, Dr. Winston. I just can’t leave anything unfinished, you know?” he was rewarded with a reassuring smile.

     “Well, I won’t keep you. Will I expect an answer by tomorrow?”

 

     In response, he gave Dr. Winston a smile.

 

     “Sure thing, Doc.”


	3. HAUNTING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little glimpse in the life of Dr. Newton Sangster, Ph.D., Sc.D

**CHAPTER 3 – HAUNTING**

     Newt Sangster – a child prodigy, the boy who graduated high school before he even hit puberty and the one who scored higher that Stephen Hawking on his Mensa – is close to losing his mind.

     It’s quite ironic because people would consider him as level-headed guy. To the point that you could spill dog poo on his shirt and he’ll still be the one who’ll say sorry. He’s also very quiet; he doesn’t speak unless spoken to. Because of his placid reputation, everybody seems to love him. Parents would secretly wish their children were like him. Research institutes and private companies would fight over him to be part of their payroll. Plus, Little Newt here was also able to attract a few admirers before; aside from his smarts, Newt’s blonde hair and big brown eyes lured them in. Everybody likes him, even those who didn’t like him before learned to.

     He was _perfect._ At least, that’s what others say.

     Unfortunately, even a guy like Newt can’t escape his demons – _they’ve caught up with him._

     He knows that he has to face this future. He can’t run away from it forever. Despite successfully having done so for the past few years, fate would always find a way.

     For the past few weeks, it’s been a struggle for Newt. Concentrating on his work became difficult for him, one way or another it will always haunt him. He could barely eat because his stomach would twist every time. Sleep was now a luxury; the demons have now plagued him in his dreams. 

     It’s all because his past caught up with him.

     Now he isn’t sure whether or not it was for the best, but maybe it is time to face _him._

…

_TWO WEEKS AGO_

 

    “Bloody hell,” Newt mumbled to himself.

    It’s 6 in the morning and Newt was currently in the kitchen wearing his gray pyjamas– making himself a cup of Yorkshire Tea. He accidentally poured too much milk by accident; the tea in his red teacup overflowed. He quickly jostled to the counter to retrieve a few kitchen towels – whilst muttering ‘fuck’.

     Newt was never a morning person; plus, he has a messed up body clock due to his line of business. There was just something about sunshine, birds tweeting, and breakfast that translates to ‘spawn of Satan’ to him. His blonde hair was as unkempt as it can be, with spikes rising from different directions. His eyes tend to be puffy and red until he gets into the bath. Worst of all, his coordination was pretty much crap during the AM. Basically, this is how Newt’s morning goes.

     The young scientist wiped his marble countertop with the tissue. He stopped wiping once all the liquid was soaked up and the cold surface was dry.

 

    His phone started ringing out of nowhere.

    The sound of his Hotline Bling marimba ringtone – courtesy of Alby – echoed.  

 

   “Bollocks,” Newt tossed the soiled paper towel in the bin right next to him and rushed up the stairs. He made his way to his bedside drawer where his vibrating phone laid. On his screen, his best friend’s (Alby) picture was flashing on the screen of his iPhone. The blonde groaned in annoyance, _this man will be the death of me._ He tapped to answer the call and placed the phone against his ear.

 

    “GOOD MORNING NEWTON!” the young Sangster pulled his phone away from his ear. Alby’s voice was always chipper and loud in the morning – of course, Newt despised this being an anti-morning person and all. He couldn’t help but wonder if Alby was doing this on purpose to annoy him or if he’s really just like that.  Knowing the most obvious, Newt silently agreed to himself it was the former.

 

     Alby is his best friend since he was in Pre K. Right after his family moved, the dark-skinned lad quickly befriended him then invited the lad to play a quick round of footie. The two have also been through middle school and high school. Alby would always defend Newt from all the big kids bullying him.

    They’ve remained best friends even though Newt had to leave for Cambridge – he was granted a scholarship by the administrators of the university. Alby didn’t mind the fact his best friend was grades ahead of him; in fact, he’s proud of Newt. Currently, he’s working as a bartender for the Glade – a bar near Newt’s workplace where his colleagues and friends love to get hammered.

 

     “Good Morning to you too, Alby,” Newt lightly chuckled at his friend’s behavior, he hasn’t changed a bit. Seeing that this conversation might take long, he sat down on his bed where his white sheets were still unmade. The two began chattering away, updating each other about how their week went by, and whose Alby’s new conquest is. Apparently, it was a brunette girl from his uni.

…

    “Listen Newt, I don’t know if you know this but…” Alby’s voiced trailed away. This quickly piqued Newt’s curiosity. He stood up from where he was sitting and sauntered towards the window. The scene outside was very mundane, his posh neighbors were out and about – either jogging or walking their pure-bred dogs. He thought about what could possibly Alby tell him that he didn’t already know, he tells Newt everything.

     “Hey, you there,” Alby’s concerned voice brought him back from his train of thought. Newt regained his composure before replying, “Um yeah, what is it?”

     Newt heard Alby clear his throat from the receiver. The dark-skinned lad also took a few breaths and a short pause. Newt was beginning to tense; this was out of the ordinary. Panic slowly started to rise up his throat.

     “I, uh, watched Ellen the other night,” Alby stuttered. Newt let out a huge relieved sigh before letting out a little giggle; all this suspense for something so mundane. There was one part of Newt that wanted to smack Alby for worrying him while the other was relieved. _Alby’s weird_.

     “No Newt, this is serious.” Newt noticed that his friend sounded dead serious. He stopped laughing; this was beginning to scare him again. Alby was a really chill guy and if he uses his serious tone it means something is about to go down.

     The last time he used that tone was when –

     “So I watched some Ellen last night, my sister wouldn’t let me switch the channel because of some bloody O’ Brien, I think.” By this point Newt was on his toes, he had absolutely no idea where this was going. “Yeah mate, and what,” Newt urged Alby to tell more, his curiosity – and fear – was brimming.

     “I didn’t really pay attention much during the entire show; the interview was boring and what not. They were just talking about his latest shags and –“Newt released an impatient groan, Alby went off topic, like always. “Alby, what the hell are you trying to say!?” He didn’t mean to snap at his friend, but this was getting too much.

     He glanced at the clock located on his side table and read it’s flashing digits. Newt is now thirty minutes late for work. _This is bloody ridiculous. What the hell will I tell Dr. Winston?_ _This is the fifth time this month._ Suddenly, the thought of dropping Alby’s call became appealing.

     “Anyway, this Thomas bloke is coming to England to shoot a new season of Skins,” Newt face-palmed himself so hard at what Alby just said. Yeah, Skins may be one of his favorite shows (right next to Sherlock), but Alby just made him panic for absolutely no reason. Before he could tell off his friend about getting him hyped over nothing, Alby continued.

     “Guess who’s coming with him?” Alby now sounded a tad bit worried. Newt groaned loudly, this was too much. He breathed in and scolded Alby a little, “Look, I don’t really care about some American twat, Alby. I have to head over to the lab and –“Newt was beginning to head towards the stairs to finish off his breakfast but his friend suddenly spoke.

     “Minho,” Alby interrupted.

     “ _What._ ”

     “Minho is coming with him.”

     A loud thud resonated. The phone tumbled down the steps but he couldn’t care less. Newt quickly sank down with his back against the wall as the nauseating wave got stronger and stronger. Newt tucked in his legs until his knees were against his chest. His brown eyes, they were dilating.

     He could feel them. _The demons, they’re coming back. All his running was for nothing; now they’re closing in to take him, rip apart piece by piece._

     Memories came flooding in, all those years fighting, all the sweat, the tears, and the _blood_.

_“I can’t, I’m not strong enough. Not yet.”_ Newt chanted.

     Newt’s breathing came in harsh pants. He could feel his fingernails harshly digging into his pajama-clad shin. Unkempt hair was sticking to his forehead due to the sweat building up. The young scientist’s throat was filled with a huge lump, tears were starting to form.

_“No, stop. Don’t please.”_

     Memories of an Asian teen started flashing before his very eyes. He was reliving every moment of absolute anguish. Minho’s voice was clear as a bell in his head. His breathing got shorter and shorter as more memories flashed.

     Playing, laughter, comfort, _kissing_ , they were all coming back to him one by one. His withdrawal was slowly dwindling.

 

_“You’re amazing, Newtie.”_

 

     Newt got up from his position and ran up to his room – without tripping a few times. His brown eyes scanned the vicinity of his room before landing on the side table on his right. He ran like a wild man towards it.

_“No, I can’t do this again. I have to. I bloody have to.”_

     He reached for the drawers handle and harshly pulled it open – revealing all its contents. With both hands, he rummaged inside looking for his relief which he hasn’t used for years.

_“Fuck, there.”_

     After several seconds of rummaging and throwing things aside, his fingers were able to register a cylindrical object. He pulled it out of the drawer, revealing an orange cylinder with a white twist cap and his name on the label. Nervous shaking hands grasped the cap and started twisting. Newt cursed, the packaging proved to be difficult.  

_“Fuck.”_

     Several pills fell on the floor once he was able to get it open. Newt stared at the pills on his palm, contemplating whether or not to take it. At that exact moment, more images flashed. Tears started to flow endlessly from his eyes.

     Without anymore hesitation, Newt shoved the pills into his mouth.

…

_“Sangster.”_

 

     Newt couldn’t believe it. He can’t believe that this was happening, that this was real. Alby is a very honest guy, he couldn’t possibly be lying to Newt. He knows that this was not a joking matter to him.

_“Sangster.”_

     After years and years of trying to forget, it has come back to finally end him once and for all. It’s been so long and yet everything is so vivid in his memories. It’s not like he’s afraid of Minho or anything – scratch that – he’s afraid. There’s like a mix of excitement in there too, but overall afraid. So many questions rushed into his mind. Does Minho still remember? Will they ever talk about it? What’s going to happen after that? His complexion was getting paler by the second – as if he wasn’t pale already. His breathing became more erratic as more and more thoughts about the morning incident rushed into his head.

     “SANGSTER!”

     Newt’s head immediately snapped up after hearing his name being called. His blown out brown eyes were met by Aris Jones’s concerned blue ones. His colleague from the math department was beside him, his hand on Newt’s back. While the blonde’s breathing slowed down, his heart rate returned to its normal state. Newt readjusted his glasses before looking back again at Aris.

“A-Aris, w-what can I h-help you with,” Newt asked. He scanned the environment around him, the lab. During his inner turmoil, he had forgotten that he was at work. He inspected his body with his hands; the blonde realized that he is really in the office – the white lab coat he was wearing told him so. Newt also noticed that Aris’s hand still remained on his back.

     Newt has been working alongside Aris Jones for years now. The two were roommates back in Cambridge, that’s how they first met. Newt couldn’t help but remember that Aris was such a twat before. He had a superiority complex of some sort. Despite having several differences, practicing a different field in STEM and Aris’s superiority complex, Newt likes to think that Aris is one of his friends, but he’s not sure if the other party feels the same.  

     “Are you alright, Sangster? You were acting all spacey on me,” for added effect, Aris waved his hand right directly in front of Newt’s face. Newt slapped the hand away before pushing himself off the lush office chair he was sitting on. He was feeling uneasy and a tad bit sweaty, perhaps he should was his face.

     “Sorry Aris, please let me use the restroom,” The blonde scientist took off his glasses, shrugged his lab coat off then hung it on his chair. He pushed his Mathematician colleague out of the way and proceeded to the restroom. Aris scoffed and followed his colleague’s suit. Aris murmured to himself, ‘ _bloody babyface twat_.’ He looked up to Newt and saw that the young man pushed open the restroom door.

     Meanwhile in boys’ lavatory, Newt was leaning on the sink with hands on the porcelain. His face was dripping with water, his eyes were looking down, and he was taking steady breathes. The news about Minho coming back really struck him hard. Earlier today on his way to work, he barely escaped death 3 times. First, he nearly got ran over by a black Peugeot. Second, he failed to see the bike zooming past him. The third and last time was Newt almost face-planting on concrete because he tripped on a rock. Yes, a 1.79 meter lad tripped on a 5 centimeter rock. Newt mentally thanked any god watching him above for keeping him alive after that eventful trip going to work.

     He reached into the pocket of maroon hoodie and grasped the orange cylinder inside of it. He brought it to work despite his conscience told him not to. He started contemplating whether or not to use it. After a short inhale – exhale, Newt retracted his hand from the pocket – deciding not to take one.

     “Get yourself together, Newt. You are not a little twat,” Newt chanted to himself. He cupped his hands under the faucet to collect water then later on splashing it on his face. After a few seconds of steady breathes, the blonde grabbed a few paper towels to dry his face with before leaving the lavatory.

_“Oh shuck, I gotta do my research on Neuron repair.”_ Newt brisk walked towards his station, making sure to avoid eye contact as much as possible. His ‘colleagues’ made it clear to him on the first few weeks that he wasn’t very well liked. If their glares could kill, Newt would’ve been reduced to a liquid puddle months ago.  The idea of a 19 year old working with them didn’t sit well. They were mostly middle-aged men who had to study for years just to get to where they are now – very high salaries and reputable names. Meanwhile, Newt was able to achieve all this (and more) at a very young age. They just couldn’t stomach the fact that he was just as passionate about molecular biology like them.

     Newt released a relieved sigh after finally reaching his work station. Before he sat down on his plush office chair, the molecular biologist grabbed his lab coat and wore it again – it was required for them. He placed his glasses back on his face then continued to work.

     Newt grabbed the samples and placed it inside the centrifuge. While waiting, Newt realized that Aris never came back to his station after that. Fortunately for him the thought of Minho never crossed his mind. 

_He was free even just for a while._

…

     After several hours of rearranging molecular compositions, Newt was exhausted. He slumped on his plush office chair and released what could’ve been his millionth sigh. Unfortunately, he’s still halfway done with his work. He looked around and saw that the office was nearly empty; some were packing up and leaving. Newt glanced at his watch and saw that it was already 10:30 pm. He took off his glasses – placing it on top of his desk – and pinched his nose bridge.

     “Hey, Sangster,”

     Newt visibly flinched on his chair. A voice out of nowhere caused him to do so. He looked to his left and saw Aris approaching him; his coat was nowhere to be seen – meaning he’s about to clock out – all he’s wearing now is his coat, a plain white t-shirt and tight jeans. If Newt’s going to be honest, he doesn’t want to deal with Aris right now. But he decided to be a good colleague and turn his chair in order to face his approaching co-worker.

     “Aris, you’re back.” With all the patience he can muster, Newt gave him a small smile.

     Aris did the same and spared a small smile to acknowledge his efforts. The mathematician glanced at Newt’s computer and analyzed what he was working on. The screen was filled with bar graphs, molecular models, and numbers.

     “You’re wrapping up?” Aris had the same concerned look that he gave him before. Newt’s head started to ache once more, remembering that he is only half-way done with his work. Being the perfectionist he is Newt refuses to go home unless he finished what he’s started. He’s known in the office for clocking out the latest. Fortunately for him, the building’s security guards don’t mind. He compensates for their efforts by buying the guards a meal from time to time.   

     “Nope,” Newt said – with an uncharacteristic popping of the ‘p’. “I’m still halfway done.”

     After hearing his colleague’s response, Aris reached into his coat’s pocket. Newt curiosity piqued at the contents of the pocket. After a short while of rummaging, Aris pulled out an energy bar and a small can of espresso. Newt couldn’t help but beam up at the sight of his two favorite late-night-working snacks. The mathematician placed it on Newt’s table then ruffled his soft hair. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the pout he received from Newt.

     “Stop that, you may be a few years older, but that doesn’t give you the right,” Newt fingered through his hair hoping for it to return to its previous style. Aris is aware of his colleague’s obsession with his hair – it was quite hard to tame especially in the morning.

     “Take it easy, alright? When was the last time you had proper sleep?” Aris sent him a questioning look, making Newt red like a tomato.  The blonde opened his mouth to respond but closed it again because he couldn’t think of a good comeback.

     “Anyway, I’m going out to the Glade with Barry. I’ll say hi to Alby for you.” Aris was able to catch a glimpse of Newt’s small smile before turning his back and walked away. The molecular biologist watched his friend walk towards the elevator for a short while.

     Newt sighed. He grabbed the energy bar and opened the packaging before taking a hefty bite. Aris must’ve noticed that he missed lunch today. After taking a few smaller bites, he tossed the wrapper to the trash bin under his desk. Newt reached for the coffee and twisted the cap open. Few sips later, he wiped his mouth clean and placed the cap back.

_Yup, Aris is definitely a friend._

…

     After three and a half hours of non-stop analyzing, Newt was finally finished. He lifted his hands up in the air and stretched, as if he was riding a plane for hours. He released a small noise as his muscles were screaming from relief. After this stretch, Newt spared a glance towards the clock; it was one thirty in the morning. Weirdly enough, it’s still a little early compared to his previous overtimes.

     Newt quickly saved his work, forgetting to save would completely ruin his efforts. After saving the file under the name of “NEURON REPAIR A”, he pushed himself away from his desk and stood up. The 19 year old started packing up his papers, highlighters, and pens until suddenly –

     His Hotline Bling Marimba ringtone played out of nowhere.

     Newt flinched; his heart couldn’t take anymore jumpscares. After calming his heart back to its normal heart rate, he grabbed his phone which was lying on the desk. He answered the call without even bothering to check who was calling, but Newt’s sure it was his obnoxious friend – Alby. Aside from his mother, nobody really calls him late in the evening except for Alby – usually to check on him.

     “Alby, you fucking scared me, you tosser.” He used his shoulder to push his phone against his ear leaving both of his hands free to continue clearing up his workstation. He was so busy clearing up that he failed to notice the absence of loud music from the receiver – seeing that Alby is usually still at work at these hours.

     “Hey, Newtie.”  _No fucking way._

Newt stood frozen. That voice… he hasn’t heard it in a while. Even on television, he deliberately avoids hearing his voice or much less seeing his face. Newt’s legs buckled once more, leaving him harshly plopping down the carpeted floor. His breathing became much more erratic, and despite staying inside a cold room – he began sweating.

     “Newtie?” The voice from the receiver called out. Tears started to form in his eyes. Newt couldn’t fathom it. Out of nowhere, Minho is calling him – all the way from bloody _America_. It’s been years since he last called him. Newt racked his brain for reasons why he’s calling him. He just couldn’t handle this, especially after this morning’s fiasco. He swallowed the big lump forming in his throat and replied.

     “M-Minho?” He sounded so weak and pathetic.

     “Hey Newtie,  how are you? You’re not using my nickname anymore.” Minho let out a strained chuckle. The atmosphere and tension between them was thick, you can easily slice through it with a butter knife.

     “I-I’m fine, M-Minnie.” It took him nearly all his will power to utter that nickname. After all these years, Minho is acting as if it didn’t happen at all. He was right; leaving him was the only way to make it right. The more he dwells on that assumption, Newt started to believe it even though he knows in him that Minho is not like that.

     “I hope you weren’t sleeping, I know it’s pretty late there back home.” Newt’s wall was crumbling at a rapid pace. _Home_ , Minho still acknowledges England as his home. Newt doesn’t know whether to be happy about it or not. For some reason, a surge of relief washed through him after he said that. Newt felt a little braver, brave enough to talk to Minho like before.

     “N-no it’s okay. I was just finishing some stuff.” He noticed that the papers he was arranging before were scattered all around the floor. He must’ve accidentally dropped them when his legs gave out.

     “Well, Alby did tell me that you might be still working at this hour.” Newt’s lips curved slightly upward to form a little smile. Even after all this time, Minho was still in touch with Alby. Newt quickly assumed that maybe they still mattered to him. He couldn’t comprehend that. In the midst of all the pain and his fame, could it be that Minho still cared? A tingling sensation started building up in his stomach, like little butterflies caressing the inside of his stomach.

     “It’s nice,” Newt murmured. His voice sounded genuinely happy, unlike earlier.

     “Hm,” Minho questioned.

     “You and Alby,” by this point Newt couldn’t suppress the smile that was making its way to his lips. Deeming himself fine, Newt pushed himself off the ground. He used his hand to brush off any imaginary specks of dust on his clothes before proceeding to pick up the papers on the floor. He internally groaned because he has to rearrange it – by types of bond.

     “Me and Alby?” Minho questions – he was still not catching on.

     “It’s nice that you’re still talking to each other,” he giggled. It was weird of him to giggle, but Minho didn’t mind. To be honest, he missed the blonde too damn much to care – but he doesn’t need to know that. Without him noticing, he started to chuckle along.

     “Well, I did try contacting you, but some random guy picks up.”

     The lump was forming once again.

     “I had to call Alby to get the new one. Why did you change your number?” _Oh shit, calm down Newt._

     “U-u-um,” His voice was jammed; he couldn’t utter a proper answer without stuttering. Newt doesn’t even have a proper answer to begin with. It’s not like he could just say, _yeah I changed it right after you left because I don’t want anything to do with you after what you’ve done._ Yeah, sure, that would be a good answer to this nice civil conversation their having.

     “I-I l-lost my old phone…”

     Newt wanted to face-palm himself so hard. He couldn’t believe himself, was that the best lie he could come up with? Minho could easily see through that lie, he knows him too well. He knows that Newt is a shit liar.

     “O-oh, okay.” Yup, Minho definitely saw through that lie.

     There was awkward silence. He wanted to start up a conversation with Minho, but he has no idea what to say. Newt placed the papers on top of his table and sat himself down on his office chair.

     Should he ask why he called? That question’s been taunting him since he found out it was Minho who was calling him.

     “Listen, Newt, there’s something we need to talk about.” Minho’s voice sounded strained. Newt was starting to get worried. He hates not knowing what is happening. His mind started going haywire with all different kinds of conclusion. Each one nearly drawing tears. But at the back of his mind, for some reason, he has a vague idea of why.

     He was just not strong enough for this yet.

     Newt uttered a yes to signal Minho to proceed. Despite his heart feeling like it was to burst out of his chest, he had the audacity to say yes. In response, a nervous chuckle was heard from Minho.

     “I’m coming back home, Newt.”

_Ah, I knew it._

     It seems that his entire day revolved around Minho. From the moment he woke up to this very hour. Minho haunted him, like a ghost. He wasn’t sure, but this is probably foreshadowing or something. Like an omen, but he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

     “I know, Alby told me earlier.” He was silently hoping that this was all what Minho wanted to say. Newt couldn’t take another surprise. He’s had enough to last him maybe a month worth of surprises. If he could have it his way, this phone call would’ve been much shorter. His patience was running out.

      “Oh, that’s good. I was really scared about telling you, I didn’t know what would happen if I did and –“

     Newt knows that Minho was treating him delicately because of their past. But he’s getting really sick of it, the bloody suspense. His fists became white from clenching and his leg started bouncing. With so much emotion building up inside him, he snapped.

      “Please, Minho, what do you want from me? Just _bloody_ tell me already, shank.”

     After his outburst, his hand immediately covered up to his mouth. He couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth. This was not like him. He’s usually calm at all situations and asses circumstances first, but what he just did was the opposite of that. Minho must be very mad right now, he was very rude to him. All the guy did was call and Newt just talks him down.

     “N-Newtie,” Minho was flabbergasted. He didn’t expect this at all.

     “No, Minho, wait. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry I should’ve—“Minho suddenly cut him off.

     “No, Newt, it’s okay. I know it’s pretty late and I’m wasting your time.” He could feel it, Minho is hanging up. He should’ve been happy that the call is finally over, but he suddenly found himself telling Minho, “Minho, please, just tell me. I want to know.”

     He heard Minho clear his throat from the receiver. Minho was unsure, nervous, and jumpy. After taking a few deep breathes, he was ready to tell Newt.

      “I know that I’m not welcome there anymore…” Newt held his breath unconsciously, “…but I need a place to stay.”

     Newt was appalled. His whole body froze and his mouth hung open.

     He certainly did not expect this one. 

     “P-P-Pardon?” that was all his mind could conjure at the moment.

     “I need a place to stay while we’re filming there in England.” 

     “M-Minho,” Newt couldn’t think of a coherent response. He didn’t know what to feel; everything was moving too fast.

      This morning, he was told that Minho was coming back home. Now, the very person he’s been trying to avoid for years is asking to live with him again.   Living with him means that he’ll only be a few meters away every day, Newt’s head was reeling – he can’t do this. However, there was a small side of him that was happy. As much as he doesn’t admit it, he misses Minho – very much. Despite the turmoil they both experienced, his heart still yearned for his best friend. All those years they spent together, Newt still cherished them.

     “Newtie, I understand if you don’t want to do it. I’m not forcing you into anything, it’s just that…”

     Minho took a deep breath before saying his piece.

     “I miss you very fucking much, you shuckface.”

     Newt was breathless. His eyes widened once more. He was not expecting this at all. Minho even used their made-up swear words.

     “I know that the past few years have been shit, but I’m willing to do anything to make it up to you. This is pretty much overdue, and I probably should’ve done this sooner. I kept wishing that I did so that you didn’t have to go through all that.” Minho’s voice started cracking at this point. Newt could hear the vulnerability in his tone.

     He could feel the tears brimming once more. His heart couldn’t take it; every word Minho said struck him straight through the heart. Newt didn’t hold back anymore, he let the tears fall.

     “I thought that maybe we could start things over, Newtie. I want to be by your side again, just like when we were kids.”

     Newt’s walls crumbled down like Berlin. More and more tears poured as he started letting out whimpers.

     “I want to apologize to you, so bad, but I want to do it in person. You deserve it Newtie, you’re worth it.”

     Minho started to break down. It took years for him to solidify his resolve. He could only dream of actually telling Newt all this. Now, he’s never been so relieved, so light.

     “O-okay,” he tried his best to utter out. Newt grabbed the tips of his hoodie’s sleeve to wipe off his tears and mucus. It’s been so long since he’s been this happy before. He could no longer resist smiling from ear to ear.

     “N-Newt,” Minho hesitated. He wasn’t sure whether or not he was hallucinating. Did his friend really just say –

 

 

     “I said yes, Minho. You can stay with me.”

 

 

…

_TWO WEEKS LATER_

     “Sigh.”

     Newt removed his black square rimmed glasses and rubbed his face with both hands. After hours of testing and rearranging molecular structures, he just couldn’t get arrive at the conclusion. He brought the sleeves of his navy blue sweater to his face to rub the tears (due to fatigue) forming in brown eyes.

     He hasn’t been able to sleep well after the phone call – which was weeks ago. His mixed emotions kept him up at night. In just a few hours, Minho would be living with him once more. It’s been so long since he shared his apartment with someone else. Not even his previous boyfriend had the privilege to move in. All those sleepless nights were filled with questions, questions that he was eager for Minho to answer. It was also filled with doubts. Could this really work? Could they really bring back what was before? Could he really –

     “Burning the midnight oil again, Sangster?” An old man – wearing a white button up and khakis underneath his lab coat – approached him. The elder flashed him a crinkly smile, clearly highlighting his age. Once he was within arm’s reach, the man gave a few pats on his shoulder which prompted him to wear his glasses and acknowledge his mentor/ boss.

     “Yes, Dr. Winston. I just can’t leave anything unfinished, you know?” he was rewarded with a reassuring smile. He responded with a shy smile.

     “Well, I won’t keep you. Will I expect an answer by tomorrow?” The endearing look on his mentor’s face gave him motivation. He looked absolutely proud of Newt.

     In response, he gave Dr. Winston a smile.

     “Sure thing, Doc.”

     With a final pat on the shoulder, Dr. Winston took his leave. The older man turned his back and started walking towards the elevator. Newt couldn’t help but watch him leave, like he always does when Dr. Winston or anyone drops by.

     Before he can proceed to continuing his work, Aris appeared out of nowhere on his left side.

     “I see that you’re still here, Aris.” Newt had a fond smile on his face. Despite Aris not admitting they’re really friends, the mathematician never failed to visit his desk before he leaves the building. This leaves a lot of questions regarding Aris’ true thoughts on their relationship.

     “Hey Newt,” Aris casually greeted his blonde colleague.

     “Are you going out tonight?” Newt steered his chair to face the screen once more. He began typing restlessly after placing his glasses back on his nose.

     “Yeah, I’m planning to head to the Glade and have a few drinks by myself.” Newt found it weird. Usually when Aris goes drinking, he’s accompanied by a few of their other colleagues. He contemplated for reasons why Aris is going alone tonight, but he shrugged it off. The man is free to do whatever he wants, so why not?

     “Quite unusual for you, but have fun anyways, Aris.” The tip of his tongue started peeking out of his lips in concentration. When Aris peeked at Newt’s work on the computer, the blonde is now typing out his conclusion at a phenomenal speed. During Aris’ arrival, the conclusion part was empty. Now, Newt was 4 paragraphs in. _Bloody genius, he is_ Aris thought. Seeing this as a good opportunity, Aris decided to seize it. He’s been waiting for this for a long time.

     “Well, I was thinking maybe you want to go with me?” The sound of typing paused, Newt’s fingers were frozen. Newt’s head slowly rotated from the screen to look at Aris.

     An ear-splitting smile started to grace Newt’s lips. After years of their “one-sided friendship of some sort”, Aris has finally invited him to hang out. Excitement started bubbling up in Newt’s system. This could probably mean something after all these years; Aris could finally acknowledge the fact that they were indeed friends the whole time.

     After 3 solid seconds of smiling like a complete idiot, Newt immediately tore his gaze from Aris and began typing once more. This time, he was completely on beast mode. Aris’ eyes couldn’t quite catch up with the rate that Newt’s going.

 

     Aris already knew that Newt said yes, even without having saying to. All it took was that stupid smile of his as sign.

 

     “Okay, let’s go!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I am back from the dead!  
> First of all, I'd like to apologize for my inactivity. It was hell for the past few weeks. School's been a total bitch.   
> Worry not, its finally my Christmas break, so expect more updates! 
> 
> To compensate for the update gaps, I made the chapter extra long! I felt the need to really make up for the loss time. Plus, a lot of you wanted Newt's appearance! I hope I did justice to your expectations. I've also decided to tweak a few things in the story. I was able to improve much more on the storyline. 
> 
> Again, feel free to leave a comment or kudos if you guys like what I'm doing so far! Constructive criticism is very much welcome! 
> 
> Till the next one,  
> helloimtired


	4. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate has a funny way of bringing people together.

  

**CHAPTER 4- RECKLESS**

     “FUCK!”

     Thomas eyes opened at the sound Minho’s all too familiar voice. His brown eyes squinted to fight the sudden intrusion of the sun’s rays peeking through the curtain. The young actor lazily brought his hand up and slides the curtain close – the room was dim once again. Thomas was pleased and started stretching his limbs. After a short bout of stretching and releasing absurd noises; his elbows propped themselves up. With whatever strength he can muster, Thomas pushed his upper body of the couch. 

     Last night, the two spent all evening curled up in the entertainment room playing video games and watching movies.  Usually they would be out and about enjoying London and feeling up some girl (or guy) in a bar, but jetlag was a total bitch. His body clock was still in sync with Los Angeles.

      It took about 7 video games, the entire Fast & the Furious franchise, and a shit ton of Guinness before they were knocked out. However now, Thomas is currently suffering the consequences of last night’s alcohol and fatigue.

     Seeing that it was already bright and sunny outside, it was time to start the day. Utilizing Thomas’s hands, he began feel for his phone – his eyes proved useless because they were still clouded with sleep.  He usually starts out by checking the time and his social media—specifically Twitter. Well, he couldn’t accomplish that without his phone.

     A few seconds of slapping his hands everywhere on the couch, he was able to pull out his phone that was lodged in between the sofa’s cushions.

     Thomas presses the power button and immediately he was met with the brightness of a thousand suns. He lowers the brightness of his phone (which was on max) before checking the time.

_9:40? Fuck, that’s early._

     Considering the fact that all they did was get drunk plus laze around and not get drunk, high, and have sex till the early A.M; it was technically early for Thomas. In fact, he would usually wake up at around 1:10pm back in L.A.

     He can just lie back down and sleep again, but the noise Minho was creating downstairs prevented him to do so.

     So instead, Thomas followed through with the second part of his morning routine – which was checking his Twitter.  He tapped on the Twitter symbol on his screen – still ignoring the sound of plates clacking against each other and Minho’s colourful language – and waited for his timeline to refresh. While waiting, he began to hypothesize about what the hell Minho could be doing that is causing all that noise.

     Thomas’s eyes skimmed through the endless amount of tweets on his timeline. As he scrolls on, he sees tweets about the new Star Wars movie, news about himself, and hundreds of his fans begging for a follow. There were also a bunch of tweets with the hashtag: AskMinho.

_What in the shuck?_

     He tapped on the hashtag – which is already was already trending worldwide – and the first thing that popped up was Minho’s latest tweet that was posted just a few minutes ago. Apparently he’s planning to do another Q&A on his Youtube channel.

_It’s been a while, I guess._

     Before Minho became the A-lister actor he is now, he was a Youtuber per say. He created his channel – ‘theminholee’ – around 5 years ago, even before he lived in L.A. Every Thursday he would upload new videos featuring him doing absurd challenges, his rants, or doing collaborations with other Youtubers. As of now, his channel has over 2 million subscribers. Despite his hiatus,—due to shooting the Maze Runner and some other project—the subscriber count is still growing.

     His seemingly endless scrolling was abruptly interrupted when a loud crash was heard from downstairs. Thomas plans to ignore it once more and leave Minho to his devices, but Minho didn’t let that happen.

     “HEY SHUCKFACE, I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE, I HEARD YOU MOAN LIKE A FUCKING HIPPO.”

_What’s gotten into that mothershucker?_

     “WHY DON’T YOU COME DOWN HERE AND HELP OUT, YOU TWAT.”

     Thomas let out a huge sigh. He threw his phone aside and pushed himself off the couch. After scanning the room for any slippers he can wear, he found none. So he marched towards downstairs with nothing but his dinosaur socks to protect his feet from the cold surface of the floor.

     Meanwhile downstairs, Minho is in the kitchen. The kitchen looked like it has been through a lot – which isn’t true because it was immaculate when they first arrived. There was food everywhere on the marble countertop and some of them were burnt beyond recognition. A variety of spills were pretty much everywhere—this includes eggs, milk, and Worcestershire sauce.

      When Thomas arrived, he was in shock. How could one guy cause all this disarray in a short amount of time? He doesn’t want to know. He admits that he can be very messy, but Minho just takes it to a whole new level.

 _Holy shit is that ketchup on the ceiling._ Thomas stared at the red substance that somehow   found its way on the ceiling – which was pretty high.

     Indeed, Minho is in on a whole new level of messy.

     His eyes continued to look around the kitchen. Weirdly enough, there was no sign of Minho.

     “Uh, Minho?” Thomas called out.

     As if like magic, Minho popped out of nowhere. He was currently standing in front of the counter who was also still wearing his pyjamas (a white shirt and red flannel bottoms) which was stained by all sorts of condiments. Thomas couldn’t help but think that his best friend looked like _absolute shit._

     “Yeah,” Minho responded.

     Minho’s eyes were droopy and surround by heavy eye bags. His hair – usually styled into a perfect quiff – was flat and a little greasy. Not to mention, he was sporting a huge cut on his hand that was currently bleeding out.

     “Uh dude, you’re bleeding,” He pointed out.

     “What?” Minho asked – with a slight tang of a British accent and a weird face.

     “You’re hand. It’s, uh, bleeding.”

     Minho looked down on his right hand and saw blood gushing out of his palm. He stared at the cut for a few seconds before bursting into action. He immediately ran towards the sink and placed his hand under running water whilst uttering out more colourful words out of his mouth. Minho applied pressure to stop the bleeding. His hissing prompted Thomas to think that the maybe the cut was deep.

     Thomas also sprang into action. He grabbed a clean towel conveniently placed on top of the counter and jogged towards Minho. He took his best friend’s hand and wrapped the towel around it – still applying pressure. He watched as the blood slowly stained the white towel red.

     “Minho, what, in the fucks name, were you doing?” Thomas demanded Minho for an answer. He grabbed Minho’s other hand and placed it on top of the towel, signalling Minho to keep it in place for him. Thomas then proceeded to run around the kitchen in search of a first aid kit.

     “Well, I tried to cook breakfast.” Minho explains while his best friend rummages through drawers. All he could find was silverware, knives, mittens, and all that junk. Seeing that the drawers had no hope, he moved on to cupboards. Minho sauntered towards a barstool and slumped down. 

     “Breakfast?!” Thomas was taken aback. They both know that Minho can’t cook for shit. The last time he attempted to, he was able to burn a hard-boiled egg and he nearly engulfed his own mansion in flames. Due to this predicament, he would always come over Thomas’s flat for meals – if he wasn’t eating out— or he would ask his lovely personal chef and close friend “Frypan” to whip him up something delicious.

     “I know, dude. I just wanted to do something special, you know?” Minho’s head was down and his eyes starting to get glassy.  Not because he felt like an utter failure at cooking – well, slightly – but because the wound stings like a hornet.

     After opening the third cupboard, Thomas hit the jackpot. He found it; a small, orange, hard case with a red cross on the surface. He immediately grabs the first aid kit, closes the cupboard, and rushes towards Minho’s side.

     “Minho, you know you can’t cook for shit. I appreciate the effort, but you don’t really need to.” He opens the black latches to reveal the contents. Thomas couldn’t help but silently thank ‘Newt’; his first aid kit was complete and very much organized which makes things easier to find for Thomas. Without wasting any more time, he takes the antiseptic, a few cotton balls, prongs, and bandage.

     “You shuckface, I’m not doing this for you!” Minho states with a groan and exasperated tone. Minho was starting to get impatient as Thomas started removing the towel from his hand, as gently as possible.

     “Well, who is it that’s so goddamn special for you to cook for and get a huge ass cut?” When the wound finally came into view, Thomas takes the antiseptic and unscrews the cap. As soon as it was open, he could immediately smell the solution. He takes a cotton bud and places it on the bottle’s mouth then tips it over.

     “T’was supposed to be Newt, okay?” Minho’s voice cracked. Judging from the tone of his voice, Thomas knew that Minho was really trying hard to accomplish that task. To console his best friend, he gives a few pats on his broad back and said, “I’m sorry.” Minho gave him a minute smile in response. 

     For some reason, Thomas was excited to meet this ‘Newt’. He has never seen Minho act like this for a person before. Well, all he knows about him so far is that he’s Minho’s friend and the guy is a bloody genius. Sure; Minho has many friends—Thomas included, but Minho was never like this towards them. The Minho that he’s seeing right now is so...

_...soft-hearted as shuck, not like his usual sarcastic dick self._

     Thomas takes the forceps that he took earlier from the kit and uses it to hold on to the cotton ball. Before dabbing it on Minho’s wound, he made sure that his friend was ready for the sting that’s about to come.

     “Min, this is gonna hurt, alright? Ready?” In return, Minho jabbed Thomas with his elbow and told him to hurry up – again with a British accent. Following his orders, he starts dabbing the cotton on the wound. As he continues to dab it some more, he earns a few hisses and ‘fucks’ from Minho.

      After the stinging Minho numerous times with antiseptic, he tossed the used cotton ball in the bin and proceeded to dress the wound. Once he was finished, Thomas couldn’t help but gloat at his handiwork. Perhaps the first aid training—that he was forced to attend for his role as a very attractive ER nurse – actually paid off. Minho was fairly impressed, the dressing was neat and snug.

     “Thanks Thomas, you little shit.” He was rewarded with a grateful smile from Minho, that doesn’t come from him very often. He watched at his saviour packed up all the contents he used from the first-aid kit.  After much contemplation, Minho got up from the bar stool and started to walk towards the stairs.

     “Hey Min,” Thomas hollered loudly. He was planning to ask Minho about the tweet he saw earlier, but Minho already disappeared. The loud footsteps he heard from the steps told him that the Korean was going upstairs.

     While he was walking towards the cupboard to return the first aid kit, Thomas could hear Minho’s frantic movements and drawers being pulled open. It took a while before he got a response from Minho.

     “Yeah, mate?” Minho said as he trudged down the stairs. Thomas couldn’t help but notice how Minho is slowly turning British – well he is originally from England. They’ve only been here for less than a day, but his friend was already starting to sound like as if he never lived in America before.

     Minho finally reappeared, cheekily standing at the kitchen’s entrance. Despite coming down from his room, Minho is still wearing his pyjamas. However, his hair was now styled into his usual perfect quiff.

     Thomas slowly leaned on the kitchen counter. The brown haired boy began stuttering; the moment Minho popped in, he forgot what he was supposed to say. He couldn’t fathom the fact that despite having a large gash on his palm, Minho still had the audacity to style his hair. Aside from his outfit, Minho looked like he was going somewhere. That was weird because they didn’t have any plans of going out this early.

     “W-where are you going?”  Thomas was very confused.

     “Out,” Minho said. After his short reply, he began walking towards the door. Minho grabbed his gray jacket that was hanging on a coat rack – which was right next to the door—and began slipping his arms through the sleeves.

     “No offense Min, but don’t be stupid. You just cut your fucking hand.” Thomas stood up from leaning on the kitchen counter and started walking towards Minho. The guy is his **best** friend and a good friend wouldn’t let him go out with an injured hand, but for some reason he stopped walking by the kitchen’s entrance.

     “Just gonna go out for a smoke, don’t even worry about it O’Brien.” To show Thomas that he wasn’t lying, he took out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket’s pocket and showed it to him. Minho expected Thomas to shrug his shoulder and tell him to bugger off, but instead his friend’s reaction was the exact opposite. Minho decided to just ignore his insults/sermons and open the front door.

     “Hey! Who the shuck is gonna clean all this?”  Thomas pointed to the mess. Unfortunately, Minho was already outside the door.

     “Sorry pal, I’m injured remember?” The Korean spared a triumphant-looking smirk before finally closing the door.

     Thomas is speechless. For a moment there, Minho was so kind then all of a sudden he reverts back to his dick self.

      He looks around and analyzes the mess. The more he did so, a migraine started to build up. Thomas looked up at the door, hoping that maybe Minho would change his mind and help out. But who was he kidding? It’s Minho. He always has other people to clean up after him. Unfortunately, that leaves it to Thomas.

      Disgruntled, Thomas leans on the counter once again. He let out a huge sigh.

_I should probably shower first, I smell like crap._

 

     Thomas trudged up the steps, towards the shower.

...

     Meanwhile, Minho sat down on the first step of the porch. He observes the mundane neighbourhood as he brings the cigarette to his lips. He takes one good inhale of the cancerous smoke before letting the stick hang between his fingers. The moment he exhaled, he watched as the smoke fluttered in the air. Minho felt a surge of relief. The stress he felt this morning seemed to have blown away along with the smoke.

_How the hell am I gonna face Newt?_

     With his left hand, he rubbed his sore neck. His body was a little sore from trying to cook all morning. Originally, he woke up early to welcome Newt home – the little bugger always goes home late. To pass the time, he played Witcher 3 and Call of Duty with Thomas. Plans changed as soon as the clock hit 6:30 am. Thomas was already asleep.  Minho decided that he should cook breakfast instead. At the back of his mind, he knows that the idea was shit and he’s shit in cooking, but he still pushed through with it. So for about two and a half hours of struggling to cook Newt’s favourite, – traditional full English breakfast—he gave up. The eggs were messed up and the sausages were burnt beyond recognition.

     For fuck’s sake, he was even able to _burn_ the fucking tea.

     Minho brought the cigarette back to his lips and took another sharp inhale. He’s never been this stressed out in his life. All the cutthroat directors he’s faced, the harsh articles, his ruthless manager, and that Paige lady? They can’t compare to the stress that a skinny boy is giving him.

     He was supposed to be making it up to Newt, not almost burning his house. How the hell was he going to explain the mess he made in the kitchen? He’d be lucky if Newt didn’t kick him out of his house – even though Minho knows that Newt isn’t that type of person. Although, there are a lot of things can happen in five years. What if Newt is no longer the most lovable and intelligent cunt he’s ever met?

     Well... you can’t change the intelligent part. The boy’s too smart for his own good.

     Minho flicked the half finished cigarette to the right, landing straight to the lush green grass. He knows at the back of his mind that he shouldn’t do that, but as of now he couldn’t care less. All he wanted at that very moment was a roll-up. As of the moment, cigarettes weren’t enough to calm him down.

     At that exact moment, a teenager—with brown hair, blue eyes, and was wearing a striped shirt—entered his field of vision. Usually Minho wouldn’t bother noticing someone so plain-looking, but what piqued his attention was the thing clamped in between the teenager’s lips. The big guy from above must’ve been listening all this time.

 _Great, just what I need_.

     Minho stood up from where he sat and started to jog towards the teenager. Hopefully, the kid would be willing to share a little spliff with him.

     “Hey, Kid!”

...

     Aris grabbed his bedroom’s doorknob and twisted it to push it open. He silently enters his bedroom, making sure not to awaken the occupant. Once inside his bedroom, he closed the door and faced his bed. He couldn’t help but soften at the sight before him.

     Lying on his bed was Newt, all snuggled in his pure white duvet. His slender body and translucent skin was hidden among the thick layers of the duvet. Only his head can be seen. At that very moment, it’s like his friend has transformed into Burrito Newt.

     Thanks to his long strides, he was able to reach the bed in a short amount of time. Aris didn’t hesitate when he sat down on the bed; right next to Newt’s sleeping form. He released a chuckle before letting his eyes fall on Newt’s face.

     Aris has never seen Newt look so serene before (despite the turnout last night). For all the years he’s known the lad, Newt was always this guy who seems borderline-obsessed with Molecular Biology. In another term, Newt had no life outside Molecular Biology. He would work till early morning, even on the weekends. If he were to look back and remember the earliest he has seen Newt go to bed, it would probably be during their college years – the blonde went to bed at around 12:30 am.

     Aris feels quite guilty having to wake up the sleeping burrito that looks peaceful, but it was already 9:40 in the morning. Using his right hand, he placed it on the blonde’s thin shoulder and tried shaking him awake.

     “Sangster, wake up.”

     After a few shakes, he still wasn’t able to garner a response. The blonde continued to sleep.

     “Sangster,” Aris said sternly. He gave a few more harsh shakes until he felt Newt starting to move. After a few more minutes of trying to wake up the molecular biologist, Newt finally cracked an eye open.

    “A-Aris?”

    Newt propped an elbow and rested his head on the palm of his hand. As per usual, his morning hair remains atrocious and his eyes are red. To Aris, he finds these morning qualities quite endearing. It makes him look human and not some boy disguised as an alien who was brought to this Earth to kick ass in Molecular Biology.

     “About time you woke up, Sangster.” Aris flashed him a very fond smile. If it was under normal circumstances, Newt would be question his behaviour because since when does Aris actually smile that genuinely? Well seeing that it was morning and Newt is clearly hungover, he looks pass this.  

     Once his eyes finally blinked away the sleep, he slowly pushes his upper body away from the bed. He let out a few groans as he struggled. The blanket slipped from his body, exposing the white button up – which wasn’t even his – which he wore to sleep. Newt was alarmed, his eyes immediately widened.

      “Uh, Aris –“

      “Don’t worry, there weren’t any coitus. Come downstairs, I made breakfast.”

     With that, Aris got up from the bed and went out the door – leaving Newt alone. Seeing that he was all alone, he couldn’t resist scrutinizing his colleague’s bedroom. It was minimalistic in design with dark blue walls. However, there were some things inside the bedroom that reflected Aris – like his large math textbooks, trophies, and his certificates.

     Newt was utterly fascinated.

     He’s known Aris for years now. The mathematician never invited him to his humble abode. However, Aris has been to his countless of times. Aside from picking him up in the morning for work, he would always insist in hanging out in Newt’s. So Newt thought it was weird considering that his friend’s house looks amazing—it was definitely not something to be ashamed about. Perhaps, there could be a reason, but Newt decided not to dwell in it. Aris is entitled to keep secrets, it’s a free country. So now that he was finally inside his home after so many years of ‘friendship’, Newt takes it all in – memorizing every single detail using his photographic memory.  

     “Sangster, breakfast is getting cold!”

     He should probably have a talk with Aris regarding the use of his first name instead of calling him ‘Sangster’ every time.

     Newt yanked the blankets off his form and placed his feet on the ground. He got up from the bed and walked towards the door. Now that he’s out of the room, he began making his way to the kitchen downstairs where a delicious-smelling breakfast awaited.

 

     He didn’t notice that he was not wearing any pants... That explains the weird yet pleasant breeze he’s feeling around his legs.

...

     “Take a seat, Sangster.” Aris gestured to the barstool right in front of him. Before he took a seat, Newt pranced towards Aris and tried peeking through his shoulder—trying to see what the mathematician will be serving. The blue-eyed man used his other hand to cover Newt’s eyes whilst the other was trying to flip some sausages. The stubborn blonde tried persisting but he soon gave up when his stomach growled—quite loudly, in fact.

     A bright scarlet shade started staining Newt’s cheeks. Aris turned his head to the left and feasted his eyes upon the rare sight of Newt, who is currently red as a tomato. The awkward silence was broken by Aris’ loud guffaw and it seems that the brunette showed no signs of stopping.

     “S-stop laughing, Aris,” Newt hoped that his gently plea would not fall into deaf ears. Sadly, this ushered in more loud laughter. Sure by now, Aris would’ve peed himself with this laughter. Newt couldn’t stand it anymore, so he decided to just take a seat on the barstool.

     Newt has never been embarrassed before. The last time he was this embarrassed was when he accidentally got his foot caught on Stephen Hawking’s wheelchair and tripped in front of him– which was five years ago.

     To be honest, he didn’t mind being laughed at by Aris.

     He personally thinks that maybe the guy is more at ease with him now and that their friendship is no longer lopsided.

     “I-I’m sorry, it’s just that you were so bloody red,” Aris said (more like rubbed it in) before he went back to cooking. Newt tried to resist pouting, but he did it anyway, giving Aris more reasons to laugh. Who knew that a genius like Newt can act this childish? Aris does.

     “Shut up and feed me, Jones.” Newt said with the smallest amount of authority he can muster up.

 

     A few seconds after his pathetic demand, Aris walked towards Newt and placed their food on top of the counter’s cold marble surface.  He couldn’t help but smile at the food Aris made; it was the traditional English breakfast. He tried to stay annoyed at his colleague—who was now sitting across him, but he just couldn’t. English breakfast was his weakness. In the end, he couldn’t keep the facade up. This stuff just looks and smells so divine.

     “T-thank you for the meal, you twat,” Newt gave a small smile then proceeded to look down and eat his breakfast.

     For the first five minutes, they ate in silence – comfortable silence. Newt didn’t dare look up just yet; poking his eggs was apparently much more interesting than having human interaction.  It was fine, really. They’ve been doing this for years – since there were roommates in college. A lot of people would find this awkward and uncomfortable, but Newt actually liked this. Newt is the epitome of awkward and the master of social anxiety. When it comes to making small talk, let’s just say that if it was a class in Cambridge... he would’ve never gotten his degree. So he was very glad that Aris was very understanding to this predicament.   

     While he silently ate, Aris seems to be looking at something interesting.His eyes squinted as it analyzed. He’s spotted something peculiar which was located on his neck, collar bones, and chest. He wouldn’t normally look at these parts of his friend, but he couldn’t help but notice seeing that he was only wearing a crisp white shirt. In addition, the stuff on his torso just screams ‘LOOK AT ME’. 

     “Hey Sangster,”

     Newt looked up at the sound of his name being called.

     “Yes?”

     Aris looked at him in the eye and cleared his throat. Newt was getting the feeling on uncertainty again and Aris of all people should know that he hates that. It took seconds of stuttering and clearing of throats before Aris told him what was up.

     “Y-you got something over here,” he gestured to his neck-to-chest area. The mathematician didn’t really know how to put it lightly. He was definitely failing at it.

     Newt slowly lowered his head so that he can get a clear view of his chest.

     His eyes widened twice its original size. He finally understood why Aris was being awkward about something. His pale chest was littered with black and blue marks as if they were forming a constellation.  He looked at Aris who was pointing to his neck and he said,

     “Go to the bathroom, it gets worse.”

      Newt follows his suggestion. He bounced off the barstool and sprints to the restroom upstairs. His footsteps were so loud that he wasn’t able to hear Aris lowly chuckling in the background.

     His breathing became inconsistent; it was not because about what was on his chest—well, partially since he couldn’t remember getting them—but because running towards the bathroom amounts to a month’s worth of exercise for Newt. Back in secondary school, he almost didn’t graduate because of Physical Education.

     After that gruelling cardio from the stairs, Newt finally reached the bathroom’s white door. He immediately goes inside the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door. Newt slowly turns to his left to face the mirror above the sink. He couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of his reflection. He looks atrocious—more like proper wasted. His hair was on a different scale of dishevelled; his eyes were red, glassy, with heavy dark bags underneath. As his eyes travelled lower and lower he noticed more weird things like how his lips were swollen and slightly bruised. When he finally got to his neck, he began shaking.

     Similar to his chest, there were big patches of love bites on both sides of his neck. Newt lifts his trembling hand and traced each one lightly with his fingers. It’s not makeup, face paint, or even a sticker. This was definitely not a prank. They were REAL HICKEYS.

“My word...”

...

     “Aris, tell me,” Newt – who is now downstairs in the kitchen with his hand resting on top of the cold marble – demanded. He looks absolutely livid.

     He didn’t give a single damn if it was too early to be stressing out. Newt isn’t a morning person, so why should he give a fuck. He needed to know what the hell happened last night. His memories of it were was one big blur to him. He remembers walking to the pub, talking to Alby and drinking a shot. After that, it was just nothing.

    “Tell you what, mate?” Aris looks up from his half-finished breakfast. He was slightly worried for his friend. Seeing Newt angry was not a good sign, especially when he’s missing out on important things— things that he SHOULD know. As much as possible, Aris wanted nothing more but to not discuss the incident and tell him it was nothing. However, there was a part of him that wanted to see what Newt’s reaction will be when he finds out about it.

     “Tell me what happened last night.” Aris’s lips contorted and formed a smirk. If Newt wanted to know what happened so badly, then the mathematician has no choice but to tell him. After weighing the pros and cons, he lifts his right hand and gestures towards the empty barstool across him. His intuition tells him that Newt won’t handle this well.

     “Well, take a seat, mate.”

...

_“Aris!” the brunette turns to his left and sees Alby—who is currently manning the bar._

_It was a busy time for the Glade, it was Friday after all. The upscale bar was filled with different kinds of people from all walks of life. As he made his way to the bar, the brunette noticed there were some barely legal (or perhaps underage) teens that were either downing cheap beer or having clothed sex on the dance floor – while Rihanna was blaring from the speakers. A bunch of legal age customers were also doing the same – just a little raunchier. There were even spotted some guys from the office – drinking a few pints._

_He walked towards the Glade’s best bartender, Alby. It surprised him that he was able to hear his holler despite the loud obnoxious Pop EDM song that was playing. Aris was now standing in front of Alby, the bar was the only obstacle in keeping them apart._

_Aris has known Alby for years. Newt was the one who introduced the dark-skin lad to him. Alby wasn’t that bad, he was a top notch guy. It was really unexpected that they would click. Since then, they too became somewhat friends. They would have long conversations whenever Aris comes in for a drink._

_“Yeah mate?” He shouts over the music. He leans over the bar so that he could hear Alby’s reply properly._

_“You gotta help me find Newt.”Aris pulled back in shock. He looked at Alby and saw how terrified and worried he was. The mathematician leans in again and asks Alby,_

_“What the hell happened?”_

_Alby was jittery when he started to explain what happened a few moments ago._

_“Some blondie bought Newt a drink – some heavy stuff, yeah? But I didn’t serve it to him, Cassie did. I was gonna check up on him since he’s been sitting at the bar all night and my shift just ended, but when I came the bloody idiot’s wasn’t here.”_

_Aris paled. Everybody knows how Newt can’t handle his alcohol, a fucking lightweight he is. The molecular biologist only needs a few shots and there it goes, his inhibitions and sensibilities have been switched off. He has seen first-hand what alcohol can do to Newt and that was the reason for his worry._

_“Alright, I’ll take the dance floor while you check upstairs.” The two nodded at each other before heading off to find their intoxicated friend._

_While he was scanning the dance floor for any sign of a familiar mop of blonde hair, he couldn’t help but thank his brain. This task would’ve been much more difficult if he didn’t stop himself from downing more drinks than he should. He stopped drinking after his second shot of tequila. However, the dark lighting—actually the whole club setting itself—made it very difficult to find Newt._

_Five minutes into the search, Aris was on the verge of giving up. He was pretty sure that he’s circled the club’s entire ground floor – and it wasn’t easy, mind you. He had to fight his way across a clothed-sex pit and avoid puking customers._

_Aris decided to give one last scan before he goes back to the bar and report back to Alby. Maybe the blonde was already with him. As his head points to the right, he finally sees a flash of familiar blonde hair. Oh sweet relief coursed through his system. After what seems like hours of searching, he finally found him._

_“Finally,”_

_Newt really owes him big time for this. All he wanted to do was to have a couple of drinks to finally solidify their years of friendship. Things went downhill just because he left for 5 minutes because he needed to wee in the loo. The next thing he knows he spends his evening looking for his drunken friend._

_From now on, bars will be off-limits to Newt. If there were going to drink, it has to be in either his home or Newt’s._

_He makes his way to the couch area where he saw the blonde. Unlucky for him, he had to cut through the dance floor. He took a deep breath and weaved through the throng of sweating bodies. Aris was glad that he made it, or else that large orgy pit could’ve killed him. He looks at the blonde guy he saw from a far whose back was facing towards him and sitting on top of some other guy’s lap._

_Maroon hoodie (which was slipping off his shoulders), white t-shirt, and black skinny jeans._

_Holy shit, he’s found him..._

_Making out with a random bloke..._

_And grinding on him..._

_Was this really Newt?_

_Aris reaches his hand out and grabs the stranger’s familiar frail shoulder, but it wasn’t enough. He was still busy sucking and grinding the life out of a random stranger. Aris released an annoyed sigh and began shaking the shoulder. It took a while before he received a reaction._

_“Sangster!” When he finally shouts out Newt’s last name, they stop their heated session. The blonde finally looks over to his shoulder and notices Aris standing on his left side. It was Newt. In his drunken haze, he began to giggle._

_“Fuck off yeah, Jonesieee?” Newt drawled out. Meanwhile, the bloke underneath him – with familiar bright blonde hair and tan skin – began ravaging his neck. Aris eyes widened when Newt released a very obscene sounding moan.  Aris has never seen this side of Newt before. He didn’t seem the type to get drunk, go giggly, and do sexual things to strangers he’s never met before._

_He couldn’t let this go on any longer. Aris takes Newt’s left arm and pulls him off the stranger’s lap. He earned a few annoyed whimpers from Newt. Now that his friend wasn’t obscuring the view, Aris had a good look of who his hook-up was._

_Aris’ blue eyes widened like two little Earth’s._

_It was Mitch fucking Hewer._

_Out of all the guys in the Glade, Newt just had to bag one of the hottest guys that they’ve ever seen on E4 (sorry Nicholas Hoult). Back in college, they would sit down on their little couch and watch Skins together. Aris vividly remembers how the blonde would salivate over Mitch Hewer and reckon how he is one of the fittest blokes he’s ever seen. He’s not sure whether or not Newt can remember telling Aris all that, these types of conversations usually happens when they have a few drinks._

_Mitch must’ve noticed that he was staring. His lips formed a sly smirk before breaking their starting competition by winking towards his direction. Newt was definitely right about Mitch, this guy is fit. He’s never seen someone who could make a black polo look like it was painted on his body._

_Aris’ stare-fest was interrupted when the actor sitting on the couch opened his mouth to speak._

_“He’s a peach. Mind if I take him to my flat?” He cocks his head towards Newt’s direction. The blonde was currently on his side. Aris placed Newt’s arm around his shoulder whilst his own arm was keeping him up by the waist. The younger lad struggled to keep himself standing and his words coherent. Aris’ eyebrows furrowed and his lips tightened into a straight line. This arrogant prick is getting on his nerves._

_“Yes, plea—“Newt was about to agree to that really absurd suggestion, but Aris was able to stop him. The Lord knows agreeing would bring horrible consequences and Newt isn’t well enough to make these type of decisions._

_“Sorry, but we must get going.” Aris, with Newt in tow, was about to turn about face and began walking back to the bar, but his drunken companion was resisting. The slender blonde tried to wiggle away from his friend’s tight grip whilst uttering drunken slurs of ‘let go of me’ and ‘Aris, you wanker’._

_This night was an absolute disaster and he’s had enough of it. Newt acting like a complete baby didn’t help appease the migraine that was starting to build up. He contemplated about dragging Newt, by the arm, back to the bar. However, he thought of a better way._

_Aris placed both his hands on Newt’s bony hips. Newt looked confused and was about to complain, but before he knows it he was up in the air. Aris hoists him up and carries him on his shoulder – like a sack of potatoes. Now that Newt’s resistance was futile, he makes his way back to the bar._

_The night couldn’t get any worse at this point, but it still did..._

_...Because Newt the potato sack started to make gagging noises._

...

      “Oh and after that you started puking on my jacket,” Aris added.

     Newt looks absolutely mortified. The colour in his face was drained; he was absolutely pale like a ghost. All he wants to do right now was curl up into a ball and shrivel away in embarrassment. He just can’t believe that he did those things last night. Alby and Aris must be so pissed at him for all the shit he’s done.

     “I-I’m s-sorry, I was such a total twat last night. I should’ve listened to Alby.” Newt glanced up and looked at Aris with really glassy eyes. If he had the chance, he would’ve done everything in his power to stop himself from drinking too much last night. Unfortunately, time does not stop for anyone. He has to live with the fact that last night couldn’t be undone. Nonetheless, he was glad that Aris was there. God knows where he’d end up without the help of his friend last night.

     Speaking of friends, Newt wouldn’t be surprised if Aris decided to cut off their ties. He was pretty sure that Aris wouldn’t want to associate himself with someone like Newt ever again. Tears started to prickle his eyes at that thought of that.

     “Hey, don’t worry about it.” In consolation, Aris gave Newt a comforting small smile to show that he didn’t really mind – well, a little. He also reached in and gave Newt a few pats on the shoulder for reassurance. In response, Newt nodded like a meek child.

      “Let’s just not do it again, okay?” Aris started to chuckle which Newt also does later on. Seeing Newt laugh again was a sign that everything was back to normal, water under the bridge it is now.

_“On other news, we have American heartthrob, Dylan O’Brien, arriving at Heathrow last night. Boy, did he cause a ruckus.”_

     Newt’s attention was averted to the kitchen TV after hearing the familiar name. He snaps his head to the right and put his focus on the flat TV-screen. Newt’s sudden interest at the news piqued Aris’ curiosity; so he too, decides to watch the news.

_“He was also accompanied by his co-star and best friend MinHo Lee. These two talented actors were said to star in the newest instalment of Skins...”_

     The news station showed footage of two good looking men exiting the jet bridge. They were immediately greeted by the bright flashes of the paparazzi and the blood curdling screams of their fans. One of them was wearing a maroon letterman hoodie; Newt couldn’t help but think that this Dylan guy was a fit guy. Meanwhile Minho looked absolutely wasted and was wearing a baby blue button-up.

     “Oh Shit.”

     Newt pushes himself off the barstool and runs toward the stairs. Aris was caught aback by Newt’s peculiar behaviour. He looks down at where Newt was previously seated and saw that the slender lad barely touched his meal.

     A few minutes have passed and Aris was starting to get worried. He could hear Newt swearing and struggling upstairs. Under the impression that something was wrong, Aris also lifts himself off the barstool and rushed to Newt. But before he could even exit the kitchen, Newt was already making his way down the stairs. He watches from the kitchen entrance as Newt descends—wearing his clothes from last night. Newt wastes no time, he ignores Aris and jog his way to the front door. He twists the doorknob and placed on foot out the door; but before he could completely step out, Aris beckoned.

 

     “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Newt looks back and sees Aris who was so utterly confused. He answers his question with one simple word.

 

     “Home...”

...

      Newt opted to take a cab going home. He was initially going to walk all the way to the underground and take a train. He had no choice; there were no bus stations, waiting for a cab would take minutes, and walking to his house from Aris’ is out of the question. If he wasn’t nursing a hangover, this wouldn’t be a big problem.

      Fortunately for him, there was a cab on standby right across Aris’ house. As soon as his eyes see the familiar black vehicle, he brisk walks his way to it – hoping that it wasn’t waiting for anyone. Once he’s face to face with the taxi, he taps on the window. The driver inside was startled, he looks at him with a confused expression. Newt sees the taxi man reach for a button which soon lowered the glass barrier between them.

     “What can I help you with, boy?” The driver asks. The man inside the vehicle appears to be around the 45 and above age group. The man donned a black North Face jacket and a beanie on his balding head.

      “I-I’d like a ride please.” Newt prays that the man would let him. It was starting to get a little chilly and the hoodie he was wearing provided little warmth. He takes both sides of his hoodie and wraps it around his torso, hoping that it would provide more warmth. The taxi driver noticed his slight discomfort. He gave Newt a small smile.

       “Sure mate, hop in.” It was now Newt’s turn to smile. He thanks the middle aged man before stepping into the passenger side of the vehicle. As soon he was inside, the blonde began feeling the pockets of his jeans – hoping that he didn’t leave his wallet at Aris’. Luckily, it was snug in his right pocket along with his phone.

        “Where are you headed, boy?” Newt looks up and sees the taxi driver looking at him through the rear view mirror. “Alexander Street, Notting Hill please,” He watches as the man gave and affirmative nod and started driving.  To pass the time, Newt pulls out his phone. He presses the power button and the phone came to life. In his lock screen, there were numerous notifications – especially in his messages. He unlocks his phone with his thumbprint then opens his messages. 15 messages were from Alby, 24 from Aris’, 2 from Minho, and 2 from an unknown number.

           Newt's features scrunched in distaste. He doesn’t recognize this number. He doesn’t even remember giving his number to anyone. For the sake of curiosity, Newt opens the message.

           _Hey babe it’s Mitch. Come swing by my flat and let me show you a good time yeah?_

_I’m already ready for you._

           The blonde gags when he sees the second message. Along with the message, he receives a clear picture of another man’s organ and a string of obscene emojis. Newt was so disgusted. It was erect, red, and—grossly enough—dripping with the ‘substance’. He nearly chucks his phone at the driver’s partition but was able to prevent from doing so. Instead, he just tucks it back into his pocket.

           He leans on the window and watches as the scene outside passes by in a blur. Newt began wallowing in self-pity. Did he finally reach his all time low? I mean, it has to be. First of all, last night’s events. Second, this bloody hangover that is getting worse, and lastly, the dick pic in his phone. Oh and let’s not forget, he will be living with his bloody EX-BOYFRIEND—which he hasn’t seen in years—sooner or later.

         Everybody knows that firsts will always be remembered. They will always be itching at the back of your mind, haunting you every chance they get. For Newt, Minho was that person. He took most of Newt’s firsts, but it wasn’t vice versa. He can clearly remember giving away some of his firsts to the Korean lad. He was his first kiss, first boyfriend, first oral sex partner, and his first soul-crushing heartbreak. Minho took them away from him and just walked away; leaving him behind while he boards a plane to LA, without even properly saying goodbye. Was it because he didn’t want to give his virginity?

       Did he really mean so little to Minho?

...

      “Thanks again, mate.” Newt says as he hands 10 quid to the kind taxi driver. The man gave Newt a small wave before driving off. He will definitely remember that guy; he even consoled him when he had that mini meltdown inside the taxi. He turns around and faced his white modern house.

       The blonde takes a moment and just takes in the sight of his own house. Finally, he was home.  Newt let out a huge sigh of relief. He can now curl up and wallow in self-pity whilst hungover in the safety of his own home.  He opens the gate and enters his lush front yard.

      “Newt?” He hears a familiar voice chime. He gaze falls to the porch—where the voice was coming from – and lo and behold, it was Minho. The man—he was crying about in a taxi a few minutes ago—was standing right there in front of him. There he was sitting on a step casually enjoying a morning smoke. His heart clenched as memories started to flash before him.  

      “M-M-Minho,” he couldn’t find his voice. A huge lump formed at the sight of his ex-boyfriend from five years ago. He looks almost the same as he did years ago. Newt’s brown eyes scanned his familiar appearance. His hair was gelled up into a high quiff, he was still maintained his fit physique, and he even has spliff between his lips—just like when they were in secondary school. Over the years, his appearance became more refined – he noted. However, he looks very tired and not well-rested.

       “H-hi,” Minho got up from where he was seated and walked closer to Newt. The blonde wanted to run inside his house, where he could enjoy refuge from his past. Unfortunately, his body refused to listen. His legs were unresponsive and rooted to the ground below him.

       “B-back to the morning spliff habit, I see.” Newt mustered up the best smile he could form in these circumstances. Despite wanting to grab the other male, push him down on the ground, and shout at him for being such a dick to him all those years ago; Newt decided to act civil. It took most of his inhibitors to not lose his mind at this point. Minho chuckled at Newt’s observation.

       “Well, old habits die hard, right?” For the first time in years, Minho was genuinely afraid. He hasn’t made proper contact with the blonde for a very long time – the phone call with him doesn’t count. It’s like walking on eggshells with him now. Everything between them became strained because of what he did. Yes, he admits it. Newt’s pain was his entire fault. Like he said before, he’s willing to try anything just to be at peace with him.

        Awkward silence hung between them, but words weren’t necessary. They conveyed everything they want to say to each other with their eyes, just like before. Newt could see the regret and sincerity in his eyes. Newt knows at the back of his mind that they needed to talk about this. Time wasn’t enough to heal them.

      They needed closure.

      “Listen, Minho. I really want to say sorry and –“Newt wanted to instigate the talk but Minho cut him off.

      “No Newt, it’s me who should be saying sorry. I was the one who hurt you. I was the one who left you all alone to pick up the pieces and worst of all ... I was the one who ran away when you needed me the most. I tried to forget about everything, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. Not when I know that you’ve shed all those tears because of me. I should’ve not done that. I’m sorry, Newtie. I am so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”

       Minho couldn’t stop the tears building up in his eyes. The facade he’s tried so hard to maintain, for years, finally came crashing down. He could feel layers upon layers of regret disappear. He lets go of everything because it no longer matters. He’s vulnerable and it feels good. Newt deserves to see everything, because, after all, it was about time they fix this.

        Newt is speechless. There it was; the closure.

        Years of being left in the dark and uncertainty no longer mattered. Minho’s words were proof that everything they had was real. It was proof that he meant just as much as Minho did to him.

        With this, perhaps he can finally move on.

        He can finally be _free._

        Like Minho, he too wasn’t able to stop the tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

        Minho wrapped his arms around Newt’s lithe form. He hesitated at first, but he decided to follow what his heart told him to. He missed this feeling he had when he was hugging Newt – it was one of the things he missed about being home. He didn’t expect Newt to hug back but he did. His trembling arms soon found themselves holding Minho.

       “I know that we can’t go back to what we used to be, but its fine with me. I’m willing to do anything for your forgiveness. I’ll wait for as long as you want. I just want us to be okay again. Just like when we were in primary school.” Minho hugged Newt tighter, like he was going to disappear all of a sudden. 

         Newt couldn’t suppress the smile that was forming in his lips. He started crying tears of joy, because finally, his wounds can heal. They can finally be friends again.

        He was finally _free._

        “Thank you Minho,” he breathily uttered. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, it was absolute bliss. However, Minho began unwrapping his arms around his torso. Newt started to miss the feeling of the familiar warmth.

        “We should probably go inside. I made breakfast!” Newt chuckled before letting Minho guide him into his own home.

...

        Despite his pleasant shower, Thomas was annoyed. Instead of lounging around and having a smoke – like that twat Minho, he’s downstairs cleaning up his mess. Usually they’d have his favourite helper, Conchita, deal with their shit. Well tough luck, he finally gets a taste of his own medicine. Besides, the owner of the house will be pissed if he sees his kitchen right now.  The guy was kind enough to let them live here; in return, they have to do their part.

        That reminds him, he should probably give something wonderful to Conchita this Christmas.

        Thomas walks towards the two-door refrigerator and pulls handle. He’s very impressed with this ‘Newt’ character, even his fridge was organized. Everything is grouped together and – strangely enough – arranged by alphabetical order. Just as he was about to grab the Heinz from the marble counter and place it next to the French’s mustard bottle, he hears the door open.

      “You’re a bloody wanker, Minho.” Thomas froze at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. It sounded soothing to his ears and definitely British. The giggle he heard sounded like bell chimes. He could hear this stranger talk all day and he wouldn’t even get sick of it. As much as he wanted to keep listening to the person talk, Thomas shakes his head in order to snap out of the trance.

       _That little fucker!_

 Thomas stands up straight. He slams the fridge door close and began making his Minho. That cheeky fucker leaves Thomas to clean the mess _he_ did while he gets cozy with a random stranger just because he can’t keep his dick calm?

      Thomas no longer gave a fuck about Minho’s injury, that little shit is getting his ass beat.

      By the time he makes it to the kitchen’s entrance, he sees Minho standing in the living room—laughing with his latest boy toy. Without wasting another moment, stomps his way towards his injured friend. Hell was about to break loose. Minho was caught by surprise by his friend – who was livid—when he suddenly appeared right in front of him.

        “Minho, you little shit! Here I am cleaning up your mess and you go out and pick up a– oh shit...“

       When his eyes finally lands on the person Minho brought home, he took a step back.

       Right in front of him was an attractive member of the same sex. The stranger was almost as tall as him, but smaller by a few inches. His blonde hair was messy yet it looks styled. The sun made his locks look like there was a halo on his head—making him look angelic. He imagines it to be soft. Thomas just wants to run his fingers through them all day.

       His face definitely a treat for the eyes; pale skin, amazing cheekbones, a few freckles here and there. Thomas couldn’t help but compare him to a pixie due to his lithe physique.

       When their eyes met, Thomas almost lost it. He has brown eyes, but they weren’t as beautiful as this guy’s. Behind his long eyelashes was a pair of expressive brown orbs. He could just get lost in them forever. They were like deep pools of molten chocolate. He could feel something stirring inside him.

      “Um, Thomas?” He ignores Minho’s call and continues to stare into the beautiful stranger’s eyes. Luckily for him, he thinks the blonde was doing the same. Thomas didn’t at all care if he had this stupid smile on his face.

      “Thomas!” Minho call was once again ignored. He noticed that the stranger’s eyes began to trail lower and lower, but Thomas didn’t look away from it. Suddenly, pixie-boy’s eyes widened twice its original size. Finally getting the sense that something was wrong, Thomas follows his gaze and looks down to what he could possibly be looking at.

       _Oh shit._

 

      He was fucking NAKED...

    

      And it Looks like Little Thomas was excited to see him too.

_“NEWT!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH DEAR LORD JESUS FINALLY THIS CHAPTER'S DONE!!! 
> 
> I'd like to start off by saying belated Happy Holidays to everyone! Hope you guys got a shit ton of presents. So in honor of that, I give you guys a long ass chapter! To be honest, I find it too long *insert sweat drop emoji*
> 
> I tried this new thing where I would incorporate the character's personalities with the third person point of view thing. It's a little awkward so, SORRY GUYS I LOVE U. By the way, a huge thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter. You guys really helped me make this bad story line better. I also edited the tags to give you all more info about the story. I suck at it so please bear with me :) 
> 
> ANNOUNCEMENT 1: I'M PLANNING TO CHANGE THE TITLE: COMMENT BELOW IF I SHOULD DO IT OR NAH!  
> ANNOUNCEMENT 2: I'M GOING TO WRITE A LARRY FIC! 
> 
> Well then, you guys know the drill! Leave a comment or kudos :-) they help me a lot with the story
> 
> See ya'll next time,  
> helloimtired


	5. IM SORRY BUT THIS IS AN ANNOUNCEMENT PLEASE BEAR WITH ME

      Hello everyone! 

 

      I'd like to apologize for the lack of updates. I know I haven't posted anything new for months, and I feel really guilty for that. Well, to compensate for my inactivity, I'd like for you guys to know that I am actually working on a new chapter for this story! During my hiatus, I have revised the storyline and can't wait to finish this for you guys to read :)  So yes, I haven't given up on this yet! This is my first fanfic every and it would be really sad if I didn't finish it.

 

     Let me know if you guys still want to read more of this stuff; comment below if you guys like! :)

 

     So yeah, expect a new chapter soon and this time I promise I will update much more frequently. 

  

    PS: I'm planning to change the title sooo yeah be prepared for that 

 

 

 

          'Till next time, 

                      helloimtired 


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